After Shoutmen
by Cearbhail
Summary: You know our story. The Shoutmen killed Fiirnar the Great and saved Solitude. We have a new High Queen, and now...I have a child. And when someone tries to take them both away from me, I will put my mask back on and find whoever is dumb enough to kill my girlfriend. Solitude is in dire need of protecting, and now...I will protect it from those who would do it harm. Even Nords.
1. You're what?

**Cearbhail:  
><strong>

_Hey people. Hard to believe, right? I mean...two years and now... there's After Shoutmen. Set two weeks after the events of the first Shoutmen... and actually before the final chapter where Bloodstain meets Cecilie for the first time. Anyway, it's hard to imagine this story, but I felt like it really needed to be told. Well, that and I still love the Watchmen. And when I found out about Before Watchmen...which I haven't read any of those yet, I decided a perfect parody would happen After Shoutmen. That and there is a legitimate story going on afterwards. I mean...life goes on. And this...the whole situation is beyond regular repair. Even if their war is tied up in Changing Fates, there is still what is happening in Solitude now. What will follow into Changing Fates. We will find out just how far this story will go. I wonder... mostly because I do not yet know myself._

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><p>[Bloodstain]<p>

_Claus Mottiere's journal, 25 Morningstar 5e000_

_It's been two weeks since the Shoutmen took Solitude from the hands of Fiirnar the Great and his vampire council. Things have been patchy, but not overly so. With the official crowning of Vivian Battle-Born as the official High Queen of Skyrim, we have the makings of our kingdom once again. Solitude stands as a tiny beacon of light, a symbol for change. The Nords of Skyrim still lie in their beds, working for elves that still think they owe the land. The former slaves that rebelled are the only army we have at the moment, and even then they are unorganized and chasing chickens. I wish I could direct an offensive and help take Skyrim back, but with no one but Reachmen to watch the High Queen…I am not leaving my queen's side. I have faith in our new army. The slaves toiled away in the Dwarven ruins for gods' know how long. They have grown strong and know how to use a pickaxe. The Silenced elves stand little a chance against hard steel used by hardened warriors._

_Vivian has decided to move to Winterhold, where her great-grandmother made her final stand against the invading Thalmor army. I support her decision to leave Solitude, but before we go, we need to instate the first Jarl of Solitude. It has been 100 years since a Nord sat upon a throne. Hard to believe that a Nord will rule a town. Never in my life did I expect to see a Nord ruling a village. Harder to believe who is qualified enough to lead a town. That's my milestone, finding a Jarl for this town._

_There is something that needs to be addressed. Our High Queen is a Nord…the first Nord ruler in 100 years. And that means we will make Skyrim a Nord country like it was in the past. And that would mean that a Nord will become the new Jarl of this town. And this town has had nothing but elven leaders, elven royals, upper class…while the Nords that lived here were nothing more than lower class, beggars, and servants. With Nords in power again, how will the struggle between the two races conclude? For days we've had tension, uncertainty. Thalmor supports are innumerable, acting out in revolutionary displays of minor terrorism. The Nords seem quick to push for more power, but reluctant to grab leadership. My fellow Shoutman, Reachman, has moved back to Markarth, and I am the only Shoutman with the exclusion of the High Queen, the Summoner. It is up to me to protect this town while we still live here. And I will do whatever I must to make sure it stays safe._

_Claus._

…

The sun rose quietly over the ice fields to the east. I always came outside onto the tower overlooking the Blue Palace where the remains of the magicka cannon rested first thing in the morning. I always found it to be the most peaceful moment of my days. I would watch the purple and pink sky light up as the sun started to rise. The sky appeared darker purple these days. It's only natural when you burn a global supply of oil in the sky in the course of an evening bonfire. Of course, every night we had rainstorms. And all that oil that burned up in the air would come drizzling down, coating everything in a layer of oily water. I found it ironic. Between the beautiful sky and the oily daily showers, you would think that our world would be ready for change. I wonder how long the sky will remain the pink and purple color before all the oil drizzled down from the sky. I wonder how long until the magicka returns to our world.

For those of you just tuning in, our world was lost to us 100 years ago, at the closing of the Dragon Crisis. When we crowned a new High King, a man by the name Stonearm, a name almost lost to history with the exclusion of a few journals and well-kept chronicles of his adventures, we wouldn't know anything about the past. When we crowed the new High King, the Aldmeri Dominion took it as a challenge to their 'authority'. They pushed the new High King to plead fealty to the Dominion, and he said 'no'. The Dominion marched in to fight Skyrim; and Elsweyr, Morrowind, Hammerfell, Akavir, the Oceans Elven, and even Black Marsh stepped up to fight the Dominion. They all lost.

How they lost the war is not known to us. There were no recorded texts of the war that followed; no history of what happened. No journals kept. Only one person knew. Her name was Cecilie Battle-Born. The illegitimate daughter of the High King. From what we know, the High King died in the beginnings of war, and when he died, the union fell apart. With no leader to guide the war effort, slowly the Dominion took over. It started with Elsweyr. It was separated from the other nations and fell quickly. Black Marsh followed shortly after. Then Morrowind. And finally…eight years after the High King died…Skyrim fell. The illegitimate daughter, Cecilie Battle-Born, the unofficial High Queen, a 19 year-old girl, watched from the Crystal Palace in Winterhold as her army died all around her. And when it was over, she was killed by Fiirnar the Great.

She died so that the Shoutmen could live. She died so that I could exist. She died…because she knew that I would step up and fight the Dominion 100 years later. At least, that's what she told me in a dream a few days ago. She said I would burn and Silence the world…and that I would do it for all the right reasons. So, not even one year ago, when Shoutmen started dying, I started looking for answers. It led me to Vivian…the last known heir to Cecilie's bloodline. And then it led me to Solitude, right to Fiirnar the Great. He was killing the Shoutmen to draw me out in the open. He was killing Shoutmen because he knew I'd fight back. And when I massed an army onto Solitude…he wiped them out with a magicka cannon. He captured me and Vivian, using us as vampire feeders. We thought we had lost. And then my old friend Madanach stepped up and saved us. It's because of him that we're still alive, and that Fiirnar is dead. The three of us killed him, and stopped the war in Skyrim by blowing up the magicka cannon. The explosion caused a temporary rift in our world's ley lines, causing a global Silence. No more magicka for a while. I also blew up the oil pipelines the Thalmor relied on for all their little gadgets. No more gadgets.

I stop to think about Cecilie. She was known as the Seer among the Shoutmen. She started the Shoutmen. She knew everything, including the war that would claim her life. In her own journal, she confessed to knowing that she would be killed by Fiirnar, at the exact day and time she died. She warned everyone, but no matter how much she tried to fight it…it still came. She had to know that I was here, fighting the good fight. She had to know that the world was going to a dark place when she died. And yet…she run from her fate. Perhaps she thought she'd bring only more pain to the world, or perhaps it led to a darker place if she won. I don't claim to know what she thought when she knew she was going to die. All I know is that we have a chance to start over. And every morning when I come outside to watch the sun rise…it's like the dawn of a new age. A rising sun to take away the darkness that has set in for far too long. And I intend on keeping the sun up as long as possible. After all…vampires hate the sun…and the Dominion is full of them.

As soon as the sun broke over the ice fields, I felt a satisfying breeze of air overtake me. Morning had finally come to Skyrim. I took a nice deep breath as I closed my eyes and let the air wash over me. This was perhaps the only relaxation I would have today. When the moment had passed, I turned to exit down the ladder. I was surprised to see Vivian's head poking out the tower's exit. When she saw me looking at her, she smiled and finished climbing the staircase. "Good morning." She said to me as she walked up, throwing her arms around me, pulling me in for a tight hug and kiss. There are moments when Vivian and I touch where we both lock up and flinch. It's not because we don't love each other, because we certainly do, it's because our time as vampire feeders cannot be erased from our minds. Vampires used ecstasy to feed. It hurts like hell, but it's also the biggest turn-on. And you crave more and more, even if you're dead on the floor. The withdrawal is hard to deal with too. Vivian and I try some kinky things to overcome our withdrawal but it's near impossible to satisfy…and every time we get intimate…it only brings painful memories to being feeders. One step at a time; we will overcome this.

When we finished our forced hug and kiss, I looked her in the eyes for a few seconds. I've only known her for maybe 10 days now…and yet we were so much in love that it was beyond anything I could imagine. "What brings you up here so early in the morning?"

"Do you ever think about getting married?" She asked me so simply that it caused me to pause. She looked so sincere, so innocent in her question that it caused me to laugh a little while she hugged me close to her. When her face scrunched up, she slammed her foot against the ground, saying, "What's so funny about that?"

I shook my head. With everything that was going on in our nation; with everything that we had seen and been through the past few days…with only knowing each other for almost a month…she was talking about getting married already. I found it comforting to know that my being jaded had not corrupted her pure innocence. You see, Vivian grew up in an abandoned Orc stronghold with her grandmother. She didn't have many friends, if any at all, and did nothing but read books that had been collected in stored for knowledge-sake. Most of them were romance novels. She had a very idealistic view of the world, and I was glad that she could maintain that even after what she's seen.

"I'm just surprised that you would ask that before the first date." I said to her as she started pushing me away.

She huffed in her usual manner, crossing her arms and looking away. "You'd think that the whole adventure to Solitude, getting date-raped by vampires, and taking back an entire city…even sleeping in the same bed…having copious amounts of sex to overcome our date-rapes would qualify as at least one date."

I found myself nodding. "Ok, you have me there." I let that paused as I looked her over. "Are you sure you want to get married to me? You're the High Queen now. You could get any man in the entire country of Skyrim if you wanted them."

She nodded. "That is true…I hadn't thought of that." She paused and stroked her chin for a second before shrugging. "Oh well, I guess I'll just go with the man that's not only saved my life three or four times, shown me a life worth living, made me feel love for the first time, but is also half-responsible for the thing growing in my stomach."

I paused. I flat-out paused. I've experienced a lot of things. I've been shot by arrows; I've been mauled by Khajiit bodyguards. I've been poisoned, tortured. I was even shoved off the tallest mountain in Skyrim. And I survived. And I've been fed upon by vampires while being whipped. All of those paled in comparison to how I felt at that moment. I felt so…tiny, so fearful. Not for me, but for what that meant. A new life…a new person, a new responsibility. Vivian was at the top of my protection list. She was the love of my life, and she was the only surviving heir to the Battle-Born throne. And now…she had a new life growing inside her. And it was my child. That tiny person…just made it to the top of my protection list. "Are you sure you're…pregnant?"

She nodded. "I had a suspicion, and the healer shaman Madanach left for us confirmed it."

I nodded. "That was…fast." I didn't know exactly how to expression just how taken by surprise I was. I thought it might be possible, but I just hadn't thought that anything we did would have such fast repercussions.

"I was surprised too, you know." She smiled. "But still, isn't this what we want? Normal lives? A family?"

I nodded. "Yes, of course. I had just hoped we would have ended the violence in Skyrim first." Or at least gotten out of Solitude. Now I had even more reason to get her out of here as soon as I could. The longer we stayed in this town…a town that was already feeling tension between the elves and the humans resting here, the more likely a riot would get Vivian killed.

Vivian frowned at my comment, saying, "Claus…" That was all she could say before she jerked forward. I heard the snap of an arrow as it slammed into her back, and just as fast, she fell into my arms. Blood splattered onto my face: Vivian's blood. As she fell forward, I reached out, grabbing her in my arms and spinning her behind me.

"Guards! Get your asses up here!" I screamed as loudly as I could. As I did so, two guards came rushing up the stairwell leading to the tower. I could hear their metal boots stomping on the metal steps of the ladder that led straight up to me. I reached down for my own weapon, but realized that I didn't carry one so early in the morning. I was weaponless. I scanned the tower for any signs of falling arrows. I didn't see any, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't come. It was at times like these that something would go wrong. I should have seen the signs. Life was threatening to become normal and enjoyable. I wasn't allowed to have nice moments. Even when I was at my safest, I needed to be on guard. I waited and watched until I could see two barely armor-clad guards finally rushing up the ladder up to me. I half-felt that they would have been Thalmor agents, coming to finish what the archer started. I was happily surprised when I saw the heads of some Nord prisoners from the prison riot two weeks ago poking up the tower exit.

When the guards saw the downed queen, the lead guard drew his sword, bringing it up defensively. He scanned the tower just as I had done not even a second ago, looking for any threat that he could chase after and kill. It was a hopeless cause though. We were sitting on top of a long tower, so far up that there was nowhere nearby to even begin fighting someone. The archer had to be very good at shooting arrows, and there was only one race that could shoot arrows that precisely: Bosmer. "Sir, what's going on?" He asked as quietly as he could. While he took up a defensive posture, the other guard was rushing up to me to inspect Vivian. I gladly let the man inspect her wound. He was better at diagnosing any survivable treatment on the spot than I was. Well, maybe not. I've survived a lot of things, but I'm no healer.

"I wish I knew." I said to the defending guard. "I was talking to Vivian and then this arrow crashed into her. I think someone just tried to assassinate one of us." I looked down at her to see if she was dead. She was still breathing, I could tell because she was groaning in pain. She didn't focus when I looked her in the eyes. Her pupils were dilated. She was in shock. That's to be expected when you're hit with an arrow from behind. I'm just glad it didn't hit her in the knee. Too many heroes going out like that. Never good for anyone.

The guard inspecting the wound looked up at me. "It's a shallow hit. It must have not been flying very fast. Since we're at the top of a tower, I would reason this blow was not meant to be fatal. I will get her down to the medical ward."

As he shifted the weight of Vivian, I could see the elven arrow sticking out of her shoulder blade. There was a note wrapped down near the golden fletchings. I reached down, grabbing the note, which untied pretty quickly. As the guards started carrying Vivian away, I looked down at the note. Vivian cried out in pain, reaching her hand out for me. "Claus…" She whispered, crying softly as the guards quickly but delicately ushered her down the ladder leading into the castle.

When Vivian was out of sight, I looked back down at the note. Whoever shot the arrow wanted me to see this note. That meant, whoever tried to kill Vivian wanted me to know who they were. When I unraveled the note, I could quickly tell it was elven handwriting. Why on Nirn would I expect it to be anything different? It read: _Return Solitude to the Elves. Elven Jarl or Solitude will burn and the High Queen will be killed. Long live the Dominion. Long live the new Empire._ Blasted elves. Of course they would try to ruin a good thing. I tried to be easy on them. They had every right to live here as we did. And now…some elf, whether on his own or in an organized gang is going to make my life difficult.

I wanted to crumple the note and toss it to the ground, but this person, whoever they were…they just tried to kill my child. _My_ child! And I take things pretty personally when someone tries to kill my girlfriend. I felt Vivian's blood on my face drizzle down my forehead and down my cheeks. My face was stained with her blood. Maybe it was time to put my old mask back on. Time for Bloodstain to take to the streets, find these criminals…and bring them to the same justice I brought Fiirnar to. It's time to mask up. It's time for Bloodstain to return.

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><p><strong>Cearbhail:<br>**

_Ok, so that is the first chapter. Pretty short, and I really wanted to make it longer. Do not worry though. Just like with my other stories, updates should be coming pretty quickly. But first, I have another paper to write, one to fix, one in Japanese I need to write, oh and I have a bunch of forms to fill out if I plan on joining the JET program this summer. :P Hope to see you all soon. And please review. I really want to hear how you receive this story._


	2. Deathlake

**Cearbhail:  
><strong>

_Chapter 2 is out. And everyone, make sure to give a round of shots to 'Guest' who came up with the idea of Salek, our newest member of the happy family. Truth be told, I wanted a Deadpool character for the story, and might have actually tried to add someone like him. But having someone tell me to add Deathstroke, who is pretty much Deadpool minus the crazy antics, was just as great. And the character is great in my opinion. Salek is here to stay now. but anyway, so I took the Death in Deathstroke, and then the Pool from Deadpool. Changed Pool to Lake and then gave Salek a superhero alterego. And there you go, Salek Deathlake. I like him.  
><em>

_Oh, and I introduced Sofie, the Reachman healer. She'll also be in and out of the story, as will Vivian soon enough. Ok, enough crappy intro stuff. Let's read this exposition chapter._

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><p>[Bloodstain]<p>

_Bloodstain's journal, 25 Morningstar 5e000_

_Someone has tried to kill High Queen Vivian. It was perhaps 5:39 in the morning, give or take a minute or two when it happened. She just got done telling me about her baby and wanting a life with me as her husband, and that's when it hit her. The realization that an arrow was sticking out of her back. Her hot blood splashed up on my face, and I was stained by her blood. Her blood boils in my mask now, boiling with rage; rage at whoever tried to kill her. And I will find them. Because I am motherfucking Bloodstain, the only detective this skeever-hole of a town has. After two weeks of trying to put the mask away, it's on my face again. I must admit…it feels good. Feels damn good. Been reading too much trashy romance tales from the journals we found in Vivian's Orc hole. Who cares about some Khajiit/Argonian/Bosmer love triangle in the midst of a war? I want bloodshed. I want the walls to flow with the blood of my enemies. And now I have an arrow. Now I just have to find out who it belongs to._

_Now that I've vented myself in the introductory paragraph, some information I've already obtained. Vivian is in the medical ward. She's stable. She'll be out for a day or two. There was some basic poison on the tip of the arrow. There was just enough to send a message. Whoever did this could have killed her…could have killed the baby too. Oblivion, they might have already. If the baby dies before I can even say 'hi' to it, I swear to Talos that I'll resurrect the shooter just so that I can make his end painful and oh so very enjoyable for me. And when I'm done, all that will remain is a…_

_Bloodstain._

_…_

The armory. I hadn't been down here for possibly two days. The room was in the basement where I was held captive with perhaps 30 or 40 people, all varying in ages and species. There was at least one of every sex of every race. Some were kids, most were weary old men and women that had lived their lives in the pits of hell picking with an axe for buried Dwemer gold. The so mentioned 'Dwemer gold' was the remnants of some war long ago, lost to most of us. It hinted to the truth that the Dwemer existed in the past, but that past was not taught to people like me. Maybe the Thalmor knew the truth, and with the thought that Fiirnar the Great was alive in the time of Cecilie the Seer, it becomes even more likely they lived through that oblivion. I wish my people knew what happened, but as it is… people like me don't exist anymore. Most Imperials were Thalmor puppets. Served in their 'honorable' war effort in Skyrim. A war that killed most of us off. What few clans escaped that wreckage mingled with other races like Nords and Breton. I'm half-Breton too. Bet you didn't know that. I am Imperial though. Raised by my mom…so Imperial I am. Dad was killed in the Purge. He was the original Bloodstain. That's what he remains to be on the wall of my house in Whiterun. A bloodstain. Thank you, Councilor Branii. She ran Whiterun and found out Dad was Bloodstain. She killed him. I took up the mask. She never found out. Fucking idiot.

So, the armory. It's where I kept my mask and my overcoat, as well as my crystal armor. They all belonged to my Father. They were the only thing I had of him. Well, that and his journal. We have so many of those, though. It's important to read up on your history, to know what's what. But that is a problem all on its own. Most history is written by the Aldmeri Dominion. Most history is a lie. Oblivion, every telling of history is a lie. Who knows the truth? Who hides the truth? Fuck all of it. I read the history of the people I trust…and that list is pretty short right now.

As I walked up to the small shrine built for my suit and mask, I stopped to look at my reflection. My face was reddened by the streaks of Vivian's blood. I paused to take a look at myself. I used to have matted hair from being inside a mask all day. My face would be pale, dark circles under my eyes. I didn't see that. Lightly tussled hair from sleeping on my right side; nice tanning skin, slight shadow of a beard and mustache growing in. I can handle that. But imagine what I'll look like in a week. Hell…I'll have to shave again. I hate shaving.

I sighed as I grabbed my crystal armor suit and started taking off my other clothes. I felt cold for a second as my bare skin brushed freezing Skyrim air in the middle of Morningstar. I'm no Nord; I hate the cold. Once I got my crystal armor set, I felt the reassuring hum that reminded me that crystals still worked some amounts of magicka even though it wasn't enough for me to go blasting 'Thu'ums' anymore. But it was enough to give me that 'sense' of impending doom and traps. Once my green-ish armor was set, I grabbed my overcoat, throwing over onto my back in the flappiest way possible. Then I paused as I looked at the eye-less bloodstained mask. This had been my face since I became a teenager. No one but my guards knew my true identity as Bloodstain. And I hoped it remained that way.

I slid the mask over my head, taking in the comfort of the cold air disappearing from my lungs as I took in my next breath. My face felt both hot and cold…and wet as I exhaled. All that hot air from my lungs tried to escape my mask, but quickly cooled off on my skin, making my face a little moist and colder with each breath I took. Odd comfort that is. I looked at my reflection in the window where I had placed my crystal suit. I know what you're thinking: Bloodstain you have no eye holes in your mask, how can you possibly see? Fuck you, George, I'm awesome like that. Well, that and the material for the mask is light enough that I can see through it like there were holes. Some enchanted magic Dad did back in his day. That and it made the blood on the outside of it move around like it's still fresh. As it was, I could barely see myself in the minor reflection of the glass standing there, gazing at the hero standing right behind me. But I could see him well enough that it made me snap my head around to look at him as he walked into the armory.

"So, Bloodstain is back in the game?" Deathlake said to me as he walked up from the entrance to the armory.

"Deathlake." I said as I turned to face him. He was an odd one. A Breton. He was one of those individuals that I knew personally. He was a 'Shouter' in the way that I was a 'Shouter'. He didn't have any dragonblood, but he knew how to fake it, just like I half did. What he did have was a unique perspective on magicka usage. Fully versed in Restoration magic and Destruction, he was nearly impossible to kill. He dressed a lot like me. He wore a giant black trench coat over his chainmail suit. He didn't wear a mask like me, but he did have weapons assorted all over his body. Throwing knives strapped on his legs, two curved antique swords over his shoulders, and a curvy dagger in his belt that looked sick in a good way. What he lacked in mask was replaced by mirrored sunglasses, bright red in appearance. And if anyone ever fucked with his glasses, he practically fucked them right back.

Deathlake was quite the character. His real name was Salek. He used to be a mercenary, used to be something of a Shoutman. Never joined though. Liked being a mercenary without a leader to question himself too. I liked that part of him. I hated questions too. 'Bloodstain, why did you blow up Markarth?' Bah. I don't need to answer for that. And Deathlake never had to if he blew up Markarth one week. He did what he wanted, and usually it was for the good of whoever was paying him. Right now, he's on our side. I hope it stays that way. I'd hate to have to fight him. But if the chips were against us, I might have to. He sides with winners, not hopeless causes. That should tell you what he thinks of our little rebellion.

We stood there for a few seconds before Deathlake burst out laughing, nudging his way into the armory. "Oh, come on buddy. We're pals, right?" He said as he threw his arm around my shoulder. Normally, I don't let people touch me. But Deathlake was cool in my book. He had a history almost as bad as some of the people I read in the old trashy journals Vivian has. Kidnapped as a young kid, forced to mine like the rest of war orphans. Hated his new role, lashed out against a Thalmor. He got slashed, good enough to die. His Restoration magicka innately saved his life. And he managed to get up. He got slashed again. He healed immediately. Thalmor shot arrows into him until he looked like a porcupine. He pulled the arrows out of his chest and his back one at a time, his body healing and regenerating enough to keep him alive. He got angry, cursed, and the entire mine exploded into fire. He got his name and reputation for that day. Deathlake, because he stood in a hole in the ground, an old mine, knee deep in elven and slave blood. Dead bodies surrounded him. He was eight years-old at that time. He can imagine what he became after that.

Good mage, he is. Never had to train to get where he was. He's like a battlefield god. Acts like it too. But…you don't go through what he has without…well…let's just say the stability of his mind left his body when he became a god. I still trust him though. Never had a reason not to. He has his moments, but we all do. I don't judge him for it. As long as he directs his rage on his enemies, I'm fine with him by my side.

I brushed his arm off me. "Deathlake, if you're caught up on the details, I could use some help in town."

He blew a raspberry at me, shrugging. "Oh yeah, heard about that. High Queen takes an arrow to the shoulder blade." He brushed off a loose sweat on his head. "That was a close one. If that thing had hit her in the knee…"

"Yeah…I know." I kept reminding myself. At least it wasn't her knee. As long as she didn't get hit there…we didn't have to worry about her not being High Queen.

Deathlake stood by the entrance, leaning against the doorframe. He rubbed a crystal pendant necklace that tightly clung around that soft area where the neck met the chest. "Like my new toy?"

"What's it do?" I took a glance at it. It was a small golden choker that kept a glowing red ruby close to his neck. It looked magically enchanted. I wonder where he found it. I take that back…I wonder who he killed to get it.

"It's Thalmor tech." He reported. "Found it in Cyrodiil when I was on assignment last week. It lets the user…get this…" He started laughing. He took a deep breath and when he stuck his neck out, he belched like a boy impressing his buddies during lunch hour. Instead of a belch though, flames roared out of his mouth like my old Yol Shout. I had to snap myself out of the way of the stream of fire that almost fell down upon me. He let the fire roar for a few seconds before he ceased his breathing, closing his mouth and smiling. "It takes some getting used to…you know…activating it like that, but it's crystal tech designed for magical warfare. The Thalmor are developing it so that they can fight your armies massing near Cyrodiil's borders."

That was troubling news. I thought we had the advantage of having the elves Silenced. If they could use Shouts, we didn't have any advantage, and they retained theirs. "They're creating Shouts?"

Deathlake shook his head. "What? No. They used them on their hands. For you know…fireballs and stuff."

"Then why put it in your neck?"

"Duh…" He replied. "It's cooler to spew fire from the mouth…everyone knows that. After all…you made a crime-fighting career out of it. You and the rest of the Shoutmen."

"Whatever happened to eating fire and using that?" Because he had relied on that up until now, I guess. Since he could regenerate pretty much anything, he would drink alcohol and then put a torch in his mouth. When he spat it out, he would actually breathe flames. He was impressive and interesting, I told you.

"I hiccupped once and I inhaled it. Gave me exploding gas and violent hot diarrhea…not to mention a lot of blood." He replied. "Don't have to worry about all that gore with this though." He tapped the crystal choker. "Oh…and I got this too." He held out his arms. Two glowing white crystals imbedded in silver hung tightly on both arms near the wrists. Must be more of those wrist devices. Must have not been able to strap them to his butt or something.

"Let me guess…"

"Healing crystals." Deathlake replied. "Got my invincibility back. Well…somewhat. It's not the same."

"Have any of these new and exciting gadgets for me?" With my luck, I would need all the help I could get.

"Nope." He replied happily. Too happily. "These were prototypes. Blew up the factory making them. These were my payment." He laughed as he headed for the door. "So, knowing you, we are going to travel the darkest realms of Solitude, bruise some people up, and find out who or what tried to kill the High Queen."

I grunted by way of response. He knows me so well. "Maybe stop to pick up some cigarettes while we're at it. While I don't smoke, I find they make people talk very easily."

"How so?" Deathlake said, leaning forward and placing his chin on his two balled-up fists. He was acting so interested, but I knew he was just goading me.

"You'll find out." I tried to hide a chuckle as I said it, but it slipped near the end. As I headed for the door of the armory, I looked back at him. "You coming with me?"

He nodded. "Ah, why not? The dark and brooding lunatic with a mask, and the dark and handsomely attractive yet… aw-inspiring mercenary patrolling the streets of Solitude, walking that subtle line between the maw of darkness that is elven and Nord politics. I can't think of a better way to spend my Morndas morning. Sure, I just got back from Cyrodiil; could use a hot bath, maybe one of those hot elven dancers to entertain me for a couple days, but you know…hanging out with you in the alleyways shanking information-deprived idiots sounds fun too."

I grunted a response as I turned to walk up the stairs. "Thanks." I nodded back to him as we started up the stairs. I was thankful to have him watching my back. It had been hard not having the other Shoutmen other than Vivian around to help me with everyday affairs. And Vivian was almost useless without her portal magic. She made due by using standard armor and daggers. She's got the moves, just not the magic backup. Now that I'm hitting the streets, looking for whatever was going on with this city, I was glad to have a fellow warrior by my side. Granted, he's as insane as people think I am…but you know. When shit hits the fan, who do you want in front of you…and who do you want behind you? You want someone behind you that will not care for their own safety as much as they care for their partner. And that's Deathlake. Caring to the last drop of blood.

I stopped by the infirmary to see Vivian before we set out. I wanted to see for myself that she was still breathing. Well, still breathing at least. The room was big enough to house a small legion of injured soldiers, but right now it was filled with guards standing around a bed, all looking outward with their bows loaded but not pulled back. As I walked into the room, bows were raised out of reaction, but one look on my face and those bows were ridden forward and placed aimed back down at the floor. One of the guards nodded to me to enter the room. As I did, Deathlake walked in behind me. He was granted the same initial reaction from the guards, but this time they didn't lower their weapons. When I waved my hand towards him, they lowered their bows, letting him walk into the room too.

I stepped through the guards, looking at Vivian. She looked like she was sleeping in a bed, peacefully breathing in and out. Her clothes had been taken off from the beltline up. Replacing them was a multiple wrapped medical bandage with gauze sticking out over the back of her right shoulder. Her arm was in a sling, but I was guessing that was more to keep her from moving her shoulder muscles when she moved her arm. Sitting near her bed was Sofie, the shaman healer Madanach left for us. She was a younger model, perhaps early 20's, but she'd been the only healer gifted enough to actually help us. The majority of the Reachmen were killed in a purge 30 years ago. As it was, Madanach was the oldest and perhaps the only original Forsworn before the Thalmor purged the Reach of them. The rest of the Reachmen were young like Sofie. They still acted wiser beyond some of the older generation of royals.

When she saw me approach, she nodded to me, smiling affectionately. "So, Bloodstain lives again. Glad to see it. You don't seem the same without the mask."

I grunted to her in the same way that I'd grunt to Deathlake. "I only wear a mask when then there is something wrong that can't be fixed by Imperial Decree and handshakes with rich pompous asses. Someone tried to kill Vivian. No amount of shouting words of laws and titles are going to give me any real power over them. They don't care for who's in charge. Otherwise they would have come to issue a concern during royal proceedings. They skipped that part and went straight for the coup. The city doesn't need a King right now…it keeps a protector. And that's Bloodstain."

She nodded happily. "We know all too well what this town needs. If you need a blade by your side…you can count on me."

"Thanks, but I have Deathlake at my back. You just stay here and keep an eye on my…on Vivian." I looked down at her. She nodded happily and looked back down at Vivian. "How's the baby?" I had to know right now if she had any indication of what the arrow did to it.

"Fetus is just fine. The arrow missed it completely, and the poison was sleep medication at best. No negative outcomes from that. Whoever did this want to peacefully let you know that they will attempt murder if they don't get their way."

"I know. And I plan on addressing their concerns back at them." I turned to Deathlake. "Have any idea of where we should start?"

He smiled. "There is this lovely strip club down in Downey Ave. Hottest High Elf girls you'll ever see."

Some things will never change.

* * *

><p><strong>Cearbhail:<br>**

_Ok, so that's the second chapter. Still no real stuff going on but I like where this is going. The introduction of a great second character means this can get even crazier. I love crazier.  
><em>


	3. Nishera

**Cearbhail:  
><strong>

_Chapter 3 is out. So, now I have yet another new character, and next chapter, I'll be adding one or two more. I haven't quite decided yet. Oh, and the people I introduce are pretty much here to stay. Not saying everyone I introduce, but the two you'll specifically meet will be commonalities for this story. I know you'll like one of them. Let's just say that...they have a certain ancestor that will be easy enough to figure out. You'll see why in a few chapters, if the name isn't enough hints. Anyway, enjoy.  
><em>

* * *

><p>[Bloodstain]<p>

_Bloodstain's Journal, 25 Morningstar 5e000_

_Today's been a long day so far. There was an attempt on the High Queen's life, I've taken back up the bloodstained mask my father left me, and Deathlake has returned from Cyrodiil. So, when I found out Deathlake was back, I asked him to join me on the streets to help me find the person who tried to kill the High Queen. The streets are filled with problems, though. Most of the trash that lives here are the Khajiits and the Argonians. I do not blame them for their trashy life though. I blame the Dominion. Just above the beast races are the humans. Bretons have a better life than the Nords, and I'm glad I'm half-Breton and half-Imperial. My father owned a mansion in Whiterun because he was a respected alchemist and Illusionist among the human races, and the Thalmor saw that. My mother was used as a political tool to help cool the heads of Nords when the Dominion did something stupid to them._

_Anyway, the investigation has led to nowhere. At first, Deathlake and I traveled to the lowest section of the city, the undercity. The city under the sewers. It's where the Argonians and Khajiits survived. I wouldn't say lived, because that would be a disgrace to what they're doing. These Khajiits and Argonians were the offspring that had escaped purges in Skyrim, moving into the sewers of the town to escape the war above them. They survived, turning the sewers into their own little town. They reproduced, and now they survive off that falls through the cracks of the town above them. Now that this town is changed, I had come down here to let everyone know they do not have to live in the dark. That was met with suspicion and resistance. I will try to work with these people, once I finish asking my questions._

_After we tried searching the undercity for any indication of who tried to kill Vivian, we hit up the Dark Corner, where the Dunmer lived. It's a lot like the undercity, only it's out in the daylight and in the corner of the town. The Dunmer were part of the Dominion, but only Dunmer that had distinguished themselves as any use: House Dres and House Telvanni. Most Dunmer in the Dominion were slave runners, part of House Dres. Most Dunmer mages were from House Telvanni. We asked around for any plots for killing the High Queen from anti-Dominion speaking Dunmer. We were recommended we hit up a local cornerclub: the Lost Vivic Cornerclub. That's where we're heading now._

_Bloodstain…_

_…_

The Dark Corner was pretty lively. Most Dunmer that lived here were from House Redoran, one of the only Houses left that didn't sell out to the Dominion. Still, the other two Houses had enough power to keep the Dominion from outright killing the other Houses when they refused to join. So, the Dunmer outside the Dominion lived like they always did in Skyrim. They lived in the dark corners of the towns, living in the shadow of the other elves, pretty much the piss rags that were abused and pushed around…and not by just the elves. Humans hated elves strongly, and the weaker elves were no exception if it meant the humans could get away with murder or assault. The Dominion overlooked human-Dunmer violence. If any elves hated the Dominion, it was House Redoran. We had a Dunmer Shoutman, and he called himself Red Night. He was an amazing man: but he was one of the older Shoutmen that was killed by Councilor Fiirnar two years ago. He was the first Shoutman to die.

The Dark Corner was lively because we had officially declared the town Dominion clean. The dark-skinned elves danced in the streets, happily stretching their feet beyond the echoes of their living quarters. I was met with smiles and handshakes as I walked down the street. Bloodstain: the hero that killed Councilor Fiirnar. The Shoutmen: the saviors of Tamriel. Deathlake wasn't really met with much vigor though. He rarely worked for the Dominion, but there was one assignment where he assassinated a Dunmer politician who tried to change the system. We knew the Dunmer was about to make life worse for humans, others didn't. All humans were about to become slaves, not just orphans and criminal delinquents.

After a few minutes of shaking hands and talking to the populace, I was directed to the cornerclub. It was actually built into the corner of the giant wall surrounding Solitude. It wasn't too small, but you'd never know it was a cornerclub if someone didn't tell you. Maybe a house, but not a cornerclub. Of course, looks are deceiving. Opening the doorway showed the tiny place you'd expect to see. A small bar with some tables set up around. A Khajiit was up on a stage, chained to the wall with a collar around her neck. She sang as beautifully as she could. She looked ragged, fur unwashed in years, her eyes defeated. It was looking at any other slave in the Dominion's care. I had the urge to free her, and I probably would.

Deathlake walked in behind me, already laughing. "And I thought we _weren't_ going to hit up any strip clubs." He shouldered past me up to the Khajiit girl. Her eyes focused on him as he walked up to her. She jumped back like a scared kitten, and I didn't blame her. The way she trembled and curled up into a ball reminded me of the conditions the beast races had to grow up with. I think I trusted Deathlake to not do something stupid with her while I turned my attention to the bartender.

The bartender was a Dunmer. He stood quietly behind his bar as he eyed Deathlake turning his attention to the Khajiit singer. When I started walking up to the bartender, his eyes focused on me. He pulled up a shot glass and some sujamma. He poured a shot and took it as quickly as he could before I pulled up a chair and sat down. He stared at me for a second before pouring a second shot and downing it just as quickly. When he cleared it, he shook his head lightly and turned to face me. "What you need?"

I grunted and gestured to the Khajiit chained to the wall by her throat. "What's with the Khajiit? Why is she chained up?"

He smiled, leaning down on his arms. "For our protection. She's one of the under-dwellers. Came up as a teenager as a rebellion to her parents. She was attacked by the Dominion, beaten for coming up on land. She got hit pretty hard, now she can't figure out how to return to the undercity. Can't blame her; no one here knows how to find the gods' dammed entrance to that hellhole. We took her in because she was dying in the streets with no one looking out for her. Poor thing slashes at anyone that comes too close to her. She's scared of anything that ain't a Khajiit or an Argonian. Thinks we're all monsters. I keep her chained up so she don't go running off killing people. She deserves a good life. And since I can't take her home, I keep her here."

I looked back at her. She was barely wearing anything that constituted as clothes. "Why is she barely wearing anything? Why is her fur so disgusting?" I tried to keep the bile out of my voice as I addressed my concerns to him. She was being treated as a slave, and this Dunmer was keeping her here for his own business.

The bartender leaned forward, arching his scarlet eyebrows. "Tell you what. You walk up to her and try to give her a bath. You walk up to her and try to put something over her body. See what happens?"

I heard the Khajiit hiss as Deathlake reached for her collar. I turned my head fast enough to see her slash her claws as a streak of dirty orange. She screeched as she tried to rake Deathlake. He backed off, putting his arms up into the air. "Ok, Ok…I won't try to free you. Gods…" He looked away from her over to me for a second. "Hey, Bloodstain. You want to help me over here?"

I looked back at the bartender. "I know where the entrance to the undercity is. Would you be against the idea of me taking her back there?"

He shook his head, pushing off the bar with a smile on his face. "Please do. I wanted to return her myself but I don't know where the place is, she don't speak common, and every time anyone comes near her she tries to kill them. We had to overwhelm her when she was sleeping just to get her in here to be chained up."

I nodded. Ok, I think I was beginning to understand the situation with the Khajiit. I thought she had been treated horribly by the owner, but that was based upon my own experience with Dunmer. I guess the darkest places in Skyrim look out for each other. The Dunmer here protected the Khajiit girl that would have ended up dead after a few days. It was this type of stuff I liked to see. Well…I hated to see it, but general kindness that exists even where this is nothing to be found but darkness was always nice to see.

As I was about to tend to the Khajiit, I remembered my reason for coming down here. I turned back to the bartender. "Before I take the Khajiit home, I want to ask a question."

The bartender poured another shot, taking it so fast that I guess he was giving himself enough reason to tell me the truth if I asked it. Vampire compulsion was still strong among the general populace. If you asked a question, they were forced to lie or kill themselves through vampiric control. Alcohol did wonders to null that compulsion. When the Dunmer felt more than ready to talk, he opened his red eyes and glared at me. "Shoot."

"The High Queen of Skyrim was shot by an arrow. The arrow had a note saying something along the lines of: Elven Jarl or else the Queen dies. Oh and…Dominion rules."

The bartender nodded. "Ok. I'm guessing the infamous Bloodstain is here seeking knowledge about who shot the arrow, and why?"

I nodded. "Yes. I want to know exactly what you know, what you've heard, what you suspect. The Dunmer see everything in this town. You know the injustices thrown by both humans and elves. You even look out for the beast races. I want your help. If the High Queen is killed, the Dominion will retake this town. The Dunmer will remain in their piss-poor condition; the beasts will still be nothing more than pets." I pounded my hand on the bar. "If I can find out who's behind this plot, we can end it and bring this town back to some sense of peace and fairness."

The Dunmer snorted. "Fairness, huh?" He shook his head. "You must not know your history too well. If the elves didn't rule, the humans did. The beasts were always on bottom; my race always in the dark corners of towns. The Nords in Skyrim hated us, pushed us around. The Altmer hate us, push us around. We traded one injustice for another. And while we hope your new Queen will fix our lives, we doubt there will be any real chance in our generation. Any hastened change will be met with resistance and more hatred." He walked up to the bar, leaning against it as he glared at me. "You have to tread carefully, Bloodstain. You claim you will fix things, but…sometimes you just can't fix what's broken. You ever own a real sword not make from crystals?"

I nodded. "My army is using them right now."

The bartender nodded again. "Ok. Say your sword breaks. Do you weld it or get a new one?"

"You get a new one."

"Why?"

"Because welding the sword makes it weaker and it will just break again." I said.

The Dunmer nodded. "Let's say our government is that sword. You killed the previous leader and you've replaced it with one of your own. You broke it…and weld it back together. It won't hold, Bloodstain. It will snap. The only way this can be fixed…is to make a new sword, a new way, and end the history of this one town behind." He pushed off the bar. "Everyone who lives here is set in their ways, and their ways have been slapped across the head. People are confused…they're angry…they're seeing their lives either being belittled or threatened by change. The Altmer hate what might become of their wealth, their status. The Nords hate that they're still being pushed down even though they have a Queen again. Tensions are rising, Bloodstain. And soon…the weld will snap."

I nodded to the Dunmer bartender. I always trusted random bartenders because they seem to know a lot about life. Ever go to a tavern and ask for advice from a bartender? You should try it sometime. You learn a lot of stuff from them. "So, are you going to help me?"

The bartender stood there for a second before pouring yet another shot of sujamma. With a groan he slammed the shot glass on the bar, closing his eyes for a few seconds. "Yeah…I'll help." He pushed away from the bar, walking up to a bookshelf near his kegs. "I have a few eyes around town. They like to come in the evening and tell me what they experienced…what they saw. I'll say this for you, Bloodstain, you have quite the issue to deal with. As you know, there are Dominion supporters still living in the town. Getting them to talk will be hard, and pushing the nail on their hands will only make their cause more justified. You need to be in the High Sector, gathering what you want to know without looking threatening or causing more problems with the elven upper class."

I nodded. "Sounds normal. How would you suggest I do such a thing? Gather information informally while in the High Sector?"

"Duh…" Deathlake said as he walked up to me. "Altmer strip club. I already said we should go hit that place up first."

I was about to tell him how stupid that suggestion was until the bartender nodded over to Deathlake. "Now, see. That boy knows how to get the goods…in more way than one."

I looked over to the bartender. "Don't encourage him. He won't let me live it up."

The bartender sighed and poured me a shot of sujamma. He pushed it up to me, saying, "Listen, Bloodstain. I'm rooting for you and Queen Vivian. I'm also rooting for the equality you are offering. So…this killer. He wants an elven ruler. Why not give him an elven ruler?"

"Because Jarls are Nordic." I responded. "I want to return Skyrim to the way it was before the Dominion took it over."

"My father lived in that time." The bartender stated. "It sucked. Nords pushed all the races down, and when there seemed to be more justice for the little guy…when the Dominion moved in, it led to a civil war. Nords started killing people like me to justify protecting their rights and status in their country…that they took from the elves to start with. Ever hear of the Snow Elves?" I shook my head. I could not say that I'd ever heard of them. "Used to live with the Nords in Skyrim. Then there was this war, Nords and snow elves. The elves lost and retreated into some underground world…much like our undercity. Same results. The highly intelligent elves became blind monsters…lashing out at anything that wasn't one of them…just like our little Khajiit girl here. Those Nords were just as bad as the Dominion. And you're about to bring it back."

"What do you suggest I do? Let the Dominion continue their rule over us all?" I almost screamed. "I want all the countries to return to their roots. I want equality among us all."

"Except not everyone here lives in their country." He replied. "Altmer, Bosmer, Khajiit, Argonian, Dunmer, Nords, and Bretons. We all live in this town. We all live in Skyrim. And putting one race on top of the other makes that race superior. You need to find a way for the High Queen to save this city…to save this country and make it better, not worse. The old system has proven inefficient. Find a new way." He shrugged and backed away from the bar. "But, I'm just an old bartender…what do I know?"

I stood there for a second before I picked up the shot glass, lifting up my mask enough to take the shot. "You know a lot. That's why I came here first. I figured you'd give me a little perspective before I set out. And you have. I am beginning to see the true issue here. Inequality…the non-lethal assassination attempt. I think I get it now. But…" I paused. "But, this archer is part of a resistance group, most likely. He'll want a war…he'll want the Dominion to be on top."

The bartender nodded. "But, if you balance the scales and make the other races feel included, they'll rally on your side, not the side of the anarchist."

I pulled my mask back down before turning to face the Khajiit girl curled up in the corner of her little stage. "I think I know where to start." I pushed off the bar, slowly walking up to the Khajiit. "I'm about to show my face. Think you can keep a secret?"

"Cornerclub is pretty empty right now, so I doubt anyone here is even half-aware of your presence." The bartender stated. "And I have a thing about customer privacy rights. Your identity will between the two of us."

There were other customers here? I looked around to see a circular staircase that led into what I assumed was more of the cornerclub. Ok, I guess I could see that. I pulled up my mask, pulling it completely off my face. When the Khajiit girl got a look at me, her eyes sharpened for a second. She looked no more than a teenager, perhaps too young to be on her own. And she didn't speak common, or elven. So, there was only one language she would understand. Well, one of two. Might as well try both. "Sannu. Xo' fixa zawe Claus." (Hello. My name is Claus.)

I paused as I saw the Khajiit girl's ears perked up. I seemed to have said the right thing. "Crauss?" She tried to say my name as she started pushing up off the floor. "Khow ufa'fu'fixa'vi Nishera zawe." (This one's name is Nishera.) Ok, that was a different form that I was unfamiliar with. Perhaps it was a dialect. But she seemed to understand me well enough, so let's start talking.

"Nishera, ses?" (Nishera, huh?) I nodded my head to her. "Wdaik'axiwe Huxxuf?" (Can you speak Common?)

She sat there confused for a second before saying, "Huxxuf? Vsir zawe?" (Common? What's that?)

So, she didn't speak any Common at all. Pretty much all we had discussed was our names and her ability to speak Common. She asked me what 'Common' was. And now that we had established that she spoke Ta'agra I could talk to her. I grew up freeing Khajiits that only spoke Ta'agra, so I learned how to speak it. Of course, she spoke it differently than me, but that hadn't confused us so far. "Khow ufa cgaa'axiwe Nishera. Garef'rio zawe suxa'fo?" (This one can free Nishera. Do you want to return to home?)

Her eyes lit up. "Khaw, dnaiwa." (Yes, please) She stood up and tried to walk over to me, but she was caught short when her collar around her neck pulled on her. She made a slight choking sound until she stepped back, rubbing her neck slightly. She motioned to the bartender, saying, "Khir dagwuf'vi Nishera'ti nuhk-xishori. Sox'vi kakh'u sima'xiwe." (That person locked up Nishera. He has the key.)

I nodded to her, saying, "Hinx'ra'keziwio. Xo Rink'wixe sox'fo." (Please be calm. I will talk to him.)

I stepped away from her and over to the bartender. The bartender looked more or less confused at how easily I had calmed her down. The way she stood now, she looked like a normal person. She had something to look forward to. I made her a promise that I'd take her back home. And she was looking forward to going. I just had to get the key to her collar. When I came up to the bar, the bartender nodded happily. "I don't know what you're saying, but the girl seems to be happy with you."

"We're speaking Ta'agra. Well, two different dialects it seems. She's speaking an…older language, more archaic. The verbs are at the end of the sentences, more markers for words…it gets confusing. Modern Ta'agra is more like Common. Still counters for locations and stuff, but you know…easier to learn." I shook my head. "Anyway, she says you have the key to her collar. I need it to unlock her from the wall."

"As long as she won't go on a rampage like last time." He replied.

I turned back to look at the teenage Khajiit. "Druxowa'xiwe qa'aru fu-hnivin?" (Do you promise to be no-claws?)

She nodded. "Khaw, Efzagwrifz'xiwe. Fu'hnivin'u Druxowa'xiwe qa'aru." (Yes, I understand. I promise to be no-claws.) Ok, good enough for me.

"She promises to be 'no claws'. Which means no violence." I replied to him, looking back at him.

He nodded, reaching down under his bar. He brought his hand up, displaying a key. "Tell her I will peacefully unlock her."

"Sox cgaa-xiwe Nishera." (He will free Nishera.) I called to her. She nodded, waiting patiently as she stood there. The bartender slowly walked up to her, keeping the key within her eyesight. When he came within lashing distance, she waited patiently for him. He put the key in, unlocked the collar, and slowly paced away, keeping his eye on her and his arms extended peacefully as he did so.

Nishera waited there for a few seconds, watching him before letting go of a silent breath. She reached up for her throat, pulled the collar off, and then rubbed her throat a few times before looking over to me. "Qikha'rio. Hnukhi'xu tar'rio." (I want to bathe. I also want to get clothes.)

I nodded to her once again. "Huxa'ra'keziwio xa." (Please come with me.)

She walked over to me, her tail flicking as she did so. She looked completely ravaged. Her fur looked dirty as hell, her legs and arms so skinny that she could barely keep herself standing. She looked well-fed enough that she wasn't going to keel over either. I was beginning to wonder if I should return her home or get her to bring the other under-dwellers up to the surface. Equality for all…it won't start unless I take action. I think I know at least one action I'm taking today.

I looked over at Deathlake. "I won't be joining you at the Altmer strip club. I'm going to get this cub into a bath and get her some real clothes."

Deathlake smiled. "More for me then. Anything you want to know personally?"

"Just get a general vibe of how people are feeling. See if they'll talk about any Dominion agents or conspiracies. Tell me anything about their lives that can cause future conflict. You know…to make a difference."

He nodded. "Ok, I will do just that. I'll go get a lap dance."

Sigh…some things never change.

* * *

><p><strong>Cearbhail:<br>**

_Ok, I updated this chapter for two reasons: one... I understand no one but me understands this language since I made it up like...six years ago. So, I have added in new after speech bubbles for my literal translation for everyone to enjoy. Nice, huh? That way, you get what they're really saying and what it means. Yay for me. I have an active dictionary and grammar rules and stuff. Nishera is speaking the older version of my language, before I updated it for easier translation for me. And reason number 2: I want you guys to understand all the stuff she's going to say because Bloodstain ain't going to comment on every little thing she says, and the majority of it will be humorous...well for me at least._

_So, Nishera is our newest good girl. As time goes by, she'll pick up Common but get used to reading Ta'agra because she'll be speaking it a lot. It's a coded language. I use English words, spin them around, formed a new language, and used Japanese rules for grammar to make it. Nishera uses the oldest version of the language I made three years ago, while Bloodstain uses the easier for me to translate version. Oh, and I will be using my coded language for Argonians, but we won't have to deal with that until later. And it won't be Bloodstain speaking it.  
><em>


	4. High District Murder

**Cearbhail:  
><strong>

_Chapter 4 is out. Ok, so... that new character I mentioned, the two characters. Yeah, we don't get to meet them yet. Well, we do...and we don't. You'll see by the end of the chapter. Oh, and it's a good long chapter full of fun, laughter, and stuff.  
><em>

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><p><em>Bloodstain's Journal, 25 Morningstar 5e000<em>

_Today's been a long day and I've still gotten nowhere. First thing in the morning, the High Queen gets hit by an arrow. The arrow proclaims an elven Jarl or murder. I put my mask on and find out Deathlake has returned from Cyrodiil. The two of us team up and try to find out who shot the arrow. We check the undercity first. The Khajiits and Argonians know nothing. Deathlake and I check the Dunmer Sector of town. I meet a bartender. Nice Dunmer, good head on his shoulders. Had a pet Khajiit chained to the wall. She only spoke Ta'agra. I decided to free her. The bartender was happy to see her go. I took the Khajiit back to the castle one step at a time, most of the time helping her walk. Her legs are pretty useless from a year or two of being unable to walk too far. Once we got her there, we got her into a bath and set out some basic clothes for her to wear. Hope they fit._

_Other than all that, the bartender suggested something to me, and it has me wondering. An Elven Jarl would end this whole conflict, but that would stomp on the traditions of the Nords who lived here. But they only lived here because they fought the elves that lived here and took it from them. Much like the Reach where I returned the land to the Reachmen…these elves had claim here before the Nords did. These elves are dead, but the Nords aren't. And I'm not giving up the land to the Thalmor. But an Elven Jarl…I wonder if such a thing could be possible._

_Bloodstain._

_…_

While the Khajiit was taking her long-awaited bath, I checked in with Vivian again. My feet were pounding and I wanted nothing more than to take the mask off and go to sleep. The sun was already beginning to set; my day was nearing its conclusion. I didn't get much done today, and whoever pulled the arrow could just as easily skipped town. That didn't strike me as a possibility though. Whoever did this would be lingering around to see how I'd respond to them. Perhaps through moles or whatnot, but at the very least nearby close enough to make sure I chose an Elven Jarl. The more and more I thought of it, the better it sounded. The only problem was that I was trying to bring hope back to the people. If I chose an elf to rule the crowd would think that the elves would always be on top. Maybe not with the Nordic High Queen though. Perhaps we had a chance.

The guards still surrounded Vivian much like they did earlier. They raised their bows at me when I first walked into the room. One look on my face made them lower their bows back down. Vivian was peacefully resting in her bed, but this time her eyes were open and scanning the room. When she saw me, she cracked into a smile and waved to me with her free arm. "Bloodstain!" She called happily to me. "Come give me a kiss."

I grunted as I walked into the room, taking my mask off. I nodded a greeting to her as I walked up. When I came within arm's length, I bent down to kiss her. Vivian wrapped her good arm around me, pulling me right into her face. We smacked faces for a second before we adjusted and started kissing. And we stayed like that for a minute. It was a very good minute. "Good to see you're awake." I said to her when we started slowing down.

"I'm still pretty groggy." She replied. "So…I hear Deathlake is back."

"Yeah, he's at an Altmer strip club." I nodded.

"A what?" She asked.

Huh…I kept forgetting she was raised in a cave by an old woman. She wouldn't know stuff like that. Her precious journals were pretty PG compared to the stuff I've seen. "A strip club. It's a place where people take off their clothes and occasionally have unprotected sex with the customer."

"Oh…" She replied, nodding her head in instant understanding. "I see you brought someone home with you." She started to sound worried as she looked over my shoulder. "Did you get her from one of these _strip clubs_?"

I turned around to see Nishera standing in the doorway dripping wet as she hugged a towel over her chest. "Crauss'wif, Nishera'vi qikh'u cofosh'xishori. Nishera'fu fav hnukhin'vi vsaga'fo qa'xiwe ki? Ufain'ti cofz'axishori." (Mr. Claus, I finished my bath. Where are my new clothes? I couldn't find them.)

I looked from the dripping wet teenage Khajiit over to Vivian, who now looked very interested in both of us. "Ok, what's going on? I don't think you'd cheat on me so quickly." She said it as if she was amused by the situation but there was a hint of tension in her voice.

I shook my head. "She was a pet in a tavern. I freed her. She wanted a bath and some clothes, so I brought her home to get her cleaned up and dressed. I guess she couldn't find the dress I left out for her."

"Crauss'wif?" Nishera whined to me as if she knew I was ignoring her.

I looked back at her, waving my hand. "Xa saig'axiwe khue. Xa rink'xiwe xa' xira." (I can hear you. I'm talking to my girlfriend.) I waved to her to wait for a second. I turned back to Vivian. "I should go take care of her."

She looked confused for a second. "You can understand her?"

I nodded. "Yeah…I speak Ta'agra. It's not as weird as it seems, I promise."

She nodded. "Ok, it's just that it sounds cool, is all." Vivian rested her head down on the pillow. "I'll let you take care of the little Khajiit. I need more rest."

I nodded and kissed her on the forehead before standing up to look at Nishera. By now there was a puddle of water gathering around her toes. Someone would slip on that if it wasn't attended to.

"Nishera." I called out to her. Her ears perked up as I called her name. She looked over at me for a second and watched me as I joined her out in the hallway. "Follow me." I said to her, pronouncing my words. "Cunnuv'xishu xa." I saw her mouth the words 'follow' and 'me' under her breath and started tracing behind me as I led her back down through the hallway. When I reached the bathroom where Nishera had spent most of her afternoon, I didn't see the dress I left for her. I left it on a hamper where the dirty clothes usually sat, but I didn't see it anywhere nearby. I looked around, even pointing to the hamper saying, "Ufain'fo qa'xishori saga." (They were here.)

She nodded. "Ufain'vi wonmag zashori ki?" (Were they silver?) I nodded. She showed me a toothy smile before saying, "Nishera'vi ufain'ti ruvan'za ewa'xishori zashi." (I may have used them as a towel.)

I shrugged before saying, "Ufa tuuz." (It's okay.)

We stood there for a second before Sofie walked into the bathroom. "Is it finally open?" She came to a stop as she saw Nishera and then me. "Um…did I walk in on something?"

I shrugged. "Nishera ruined her new dress before she could wear it. We need a replacement."

Sofie nodded and walked up to Nishera. "Hmm…she's about my size and build." It was true; they were about the same size in length and build. "I think I have a dress she can wear." She turned around and paced out of the room.

"Vsu zawe ki?" Nishera asked me. (Who is she?)

"Sofie zawe." I turned to look at her. "Sha toma'zashino khue sha' zgaww." (She will give you her dress."

She nodded and we stood there in a near awkward silence until Sofie returned with a blue dress. "Here!" She said as she ran back into the room. Sofie rushed as she grabbed me by my arms and tossed me out of the bathroom and into the hallway. "No men allowed." She screamed as she slammed the door behind me. "Now, let's get you dressed."

"Nishera'ti ruech'xiwaf'xishu khu!" (Don't touch me!) Nishera cried through the closed door. I rolled my eyes and waited. I heard plenty of banging on the walls and some snarls, but eventually the doorway opened up and Sofie was walking out with a few scratches on her arms and face.

Sofie smiled up at me. "Ok, she's dressed." She gave me a thumbs up and then walked back down to her room. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Nishera slowly walked out of the bathroom, her face etched in silent annoyance. She had a low growl in her throat as she scanned the hallway for Sofie. She looked down at the blue dress and I heard that growl return. "Khow zgaww'vi wredoz zawe." (This dress looks stupid.) I thought it looked nice on her. It was a Breton dress. Nice and long with black stripes running horizontally against the deep blue. It did look weird on the now orange-furred and white-faced Nishera.

I was about to ask Nishera if she was ready to go back home when I heard Deathlake scream my name from the hallway. "Bloodstain!" He screamed as I heard his heavy footsteps pounding on the stone floor. I reached up for my mask and slid it over my face before he rounded the next corner. When he saw me, he waved me to follow him. "There's been a murder!"

"Where?" A murder? As if this long-ass day couldn't get any longer.

"High District!" He called back. He didn't wait for me as he turned around. "I'll wait for you by the entrance."

I sighed and looked at the apprehensive and confused Nishera. She felt the tension in the air, and she knew my mask was back on, but she didn't know what was going on. That didn't stop her tail from flicking all around the air, which pulled her dress up further than it should go. "Rgueqna ruvf'fo. Tu'aru'fiksi sand'aru." (Trouble in town. I have to go help.)

She nodded, saying, "Nishera'xu." (Me too.)

I started running for the exit, surprised that the lanky Nishera could even begin to keep up with me. "Sofie, on me!" I screamed through the hallway as I ran past Sofie's bedroom.

"What?" She asked as she opened her door. When she saw me charging down the hallway with Nishera on my tail, she swore and grabbed her Reachman cloak. She ran out of her room, throwing her cloak over her shoulder as she tried to keep up with me. "Sir, what's going on?"

"Murder in High District." I screamed back to her. "Might be a clue…might be a message…might be something even more horrible." And with my luck and with the things as they were, I was looking at the latter. Trouble in High District made things worse here in Palace District.

"Wow…" She mumbled just over her breath. "A murder in the High District? That hasn't happened since we got here."

"I know."

…

The High District: It's called the High District for a reason. Besides the rather obvious point that it's where the Bosmer and Altmer lived; it was also on the second level of the town. Oh yeah, did I mention that earlier? Solitude is a layered town. The Undercity where the beasts live? Yeah, that's in the sewers. But you already knew that. The Dark District: It's on the lowest level, like a gutter against the furthest wall from Blue Palace. Right above and outside the Dark District is the Human Quarter, where the Nords and Bretons lived. And then, right above the Human District, separated by three stories of walkways and teleporter lifts was the High District. Also called the Cloud District. And I like to think of the crime rate in this fashion. I like to think of it as a pollution effect. The trash from the High District falls down through the cracks into the Human District, where they stuff it away in the Undercity, or where it gathers in the shadowy corners of the Dark District. And ta da… where our crime comes from.

That very fact seemed odd to me though. The High District was where all the supposed gods lived. Nothing but pure intentions up in heaven. Well, unless you aren't an elf…then there are plenty of unsettling intentions towards you. But only elves currently lived up there. For there to be a murder…it had to be an elf of some kind. Unless a Nord walked up three flights of stairs by mistake. Oh gods don't let this be a hate crime. That would only be a spark for something darker.

So, by the time we had made it up to the High District, poor exhausted Nishera was ready to collapse on her knees. "Khar thaga'fu ki?" (We there yet?) She asked as she fell to her knees, coughing up something like a furball.

I looked at Sofie. "Will you look after her?"

Sofie bent down to pick her up, but Nishera pushed off the offering hand. "Nishera'ti ruech'xiwaf'xishu khu!" (Don't touch me!)

Sofie shrugged. "I'm guessing she's saying that she doesn't want my help."

I nodded. "More like phobia." I shrugged. I looked at Deathlake. "Ok, Deathlake. Where is the murder site?"

He didn't really have to say. I could see it already. Four houses with smashed in windows sat in a row right next to our staircase. A crowd of Altmer and Bosmer were already lining up around the buildings, most of them screaming. I waved to everyone to stay where they were as I walked up to the growing crowd of elves. They weren't facing me, but I didn't need to see them to know how angry they were. They were shouting in all sorts of foul tones to someone inside the circle. Perhaps the killer?

I walked up to the crowd of elves and cleared my throat all nice and quiet like. Some elves near the end turned to look at me. Their angry faces suddenly turned to fearful eyes and drooping ears. "Bloodstain." One of the older elves whispered as he stepped back. "I swear, we aren't doing anything illegal."

"I'll be the judge of that." I said as I pushed past him. As soon as he whispered my name the other elves near him started looking at me. They started saying my name and it caused a ripple effect. The yelling started quieting down until there was nothing left by whispers and coughing. By now, Deathlake, Sofie, and Nishera were jogging up to join me. When I had everyone's attention, I cleared my throat. "What happened here?"

A nice line started forming through the crowd of elves until I could see a group of Nords bound up, beaten, and bloody. That was quite the impression. I walked through the crowds up to the group of Nords. All of them were men, ten in total, and they were tied up by ropes. Several had blackened eyes; some had blood drizzling from their noses. Every one of them looked worse for wear. One of them had been knocked out and was probably dead. He didn't look like he was bleeding too heavily.

One of the beaten Nords saw me walking up to the group. He cracked a smile, saying, "There he is." He turned to look at the elves. "He'll make sure you all pay for what you did to us!" His threat was treated with the line of elves taking a few steps back in fear. They sure seemed to fear me. The Nord looked up at me. "Bloodstain, these elves tied us up and beat the shit out of us."

I looked around. The elves looked like normal citizens. Sure, royal citizens, but citizens nonetheless. Actually, being royal and all that, I didn't see them to be the thug type. Why would they resort to this kind of action? I looked from the crowd of elves back to the Nord. "Why are you up here?"

He paused before he answered. "What do you mean?" He said like he was beginning to find the question funny, like I had asked a joke instead of a question.

"This is where the elves live. Why. Are. You. Up. Here?" I gestured to the ruined buildings, to the bodies of elves that I could see lying in the doorways. "Did you kill these elves?"

That brought a roar from the elves behind me. They started calling the group of Nords killers, murders, rapists, all sorts of colorful words. So, that confirmed that. The Nord I asked had fallen silent but the one next to him didn't seem to understand what I understood. "This is our home now!" He said. "Nords are back on top! We deserve to live up here too!"

I nodded. "So, you decided to clear out a few homes to live in?"

He paused before he answered. "We told them to leave. They didn't listen."

"Because they live here." I supplemented. "You tried to possess their house…and they refused…so you killed them."

"But…" He said. "It's our town now…not the Dominion's." He sounded so confused. "They did it to us all the time. They'd kill our families and take our homes to give to their buddies…why can't we? We're on top now."

I started thinking of the bartender, of what he said about the equality of elves and Nords. He seemed to be right again. We were becoming the next cycle of hatred and violence. I had to break this now. The elves behind me went into an uproar and started chucking vegetables at the group of Nords, myself included since I was standing right in front of them. I covered my head and looked over to Deathlake. "Deathlake…crowd control."

Just like that a stream of fire roared over top the elves' heads. They screamed and dived to their knees. There were high-pitched screams for mercy as the adults clung to their children, pulling them closely to protect them. "Enough." I said, and Deathlake let the fire die from the sky. The elves kneeled there fearfully, looking up at me. I wanted them quiet so that I could address this issue right now. I turned to look at the Nords. "Let me tell you right now how this will go down. Who decided this was a good idea?"

A few eyes looked at the Nord that dodged my question originally, the one right in front of me. Ok then. I bent down to look him eye-to-eye. "You decided it was a good idea to kill some elves to move up to the High District?"

"They shouldn't be the only ones up here." He mumbled.

I nodded. "Yes, that's true…but that problem will be addressed shortly. And not by the Nords, but by everyone." I said. I stood up, looking at everyone. "It has been brought to my attention that a certain Thalmor supporting unit is still in this town…and they want an elven Jarl. It has also been brought to my attention that people in this town are worried that the Nords will become the next Dominion of Skyrim, that they will dominate over the elves and make them lower-class citizens. I will say this now…for everyone to hear. I will not let that happen. Solitude is on equal basis. Elves and Nords alike are equal. So…there will be no elven Jarls…no Nordic Jarls…not even Khajiit Jarls. There will be _no_ Jarls. Just like the Dominion, we will have Councilors. Two of each race will represent this city. They will be our government. And when the High Queen feels this town is ready to function on its own…we will leave it in your hands."

The crowd of elves looked concerned for a second. They started mumbling to themselves until one brave Altmer walked up to me. He gestured to the Nords. "What about them?"

I looked down at the leader. "Well…the leader led his troops, but the troops still obeyed his orders. They will all be arrested and will serve as this town's first test of diplomacy. The new government will decide their fate."

The Nords hung their heads in shame. The leader looked up at me, scowling. "You're handing this town right back to the Dominion if you let these elves back into the Palace."

I shrugged. "This town has to be the shining example of what our lives could be. Not what they used to be." I looked at the crowd of elves. "You stood by and watched as the Dominion ruined the lives of humans and the beast races. I know it's all you know, and I don't blame you for it, but for the sake of our future…we must work together. If we are to survive this shit, and keep it from happening again and again, we must be different. We must be as one."

The crowd of elves had started calming down. They dropped out of rioting mode and they stood there like I wasn't some monster coming to hunt them. I was the savior of this city, and perhaps they were starting to see that now.

Sofie walked up to me with Nishera behind her. "So…what are we going to do?"

Deathlake crossed his arms as he walked up. "Orders?"

I motioned towards the Nords. "Get some Bosmer and Altmer to help take these Nords back to the castle dungeon. Lock them up in separate cages."

He nodded. "Gladly." He grabbed some Bosmer from the crowd and got them to help him as he started pulling the Nords from their feet.

When Deathlake picked up the leader, the leader scowled at me. He spat at my feet with his bloody mouth, shouting, "Elf lover! You'll burn this city just like you did Markarth!" Ouch…always bringing up Markarth. That was an accident. A lovely accident, but an accident nonetheless.

Deathlake backslapped the leader, saying, "Shaddup!" He started dragging the resisting Nord away as the Bosmer dragged the rest behind him.

I sighed as I looked at the crowd. They were already starting to disperse. A few of them paid their respects to the fallen and the dead. I shook my head in shame. "This is dreadful." I looked over to Sofie, gesturing to the first building. "Check for survivors." I looked at Nishera, saying, "Wegmomagin'fu nuuk'xishu." I pointed to the second building. Both Nishera and Sofie nodded and they ran off to the buildings. I shook my head and pulled up my collar on my overcoat as I walked over to the third building.

It was a two-story building. All the windows were smashed. I could already see the corpse of some woman who had been pushed halfway out a window. Her neck had been slid across the sharp glass. A stream of blood had rolled from the window and had collected into a pool of blood. Another body lied just on the other side of the doorway. It was an older male. He had a hole in his eye. He must have answered the door and gotten stabbed right as the mob rushed through the doorway. His body looked trampled over like the Nords had danced on his corpse once they knocked him down. Disgusting.

I walked past him into the living area. I say a stream of blood flowing near the couch. I walked over to the couch to see an older woman. Her eyes were stretched out in horror, a bloody book still clutched loosely in her hands. I reached down and picked up the book from her. _Chronicles of Fiirnar the Great._ Figures. I tossed the book to the ground where it landed in the puddle of blood with a splash. I continued through the house, climbing up the staircase onto the second level. Bloody footprints led me to another room where I saw the two limp forms of children, maybe ten maybe even less. A boy and a girl. They looked like they were playing with some sort of board game, which was now coated with what was left of their bodies.

Right as I was about to leave the room, I heard a slight whimper from under the bed. I stopped and turned around. The room looked empty, but right under the bed, I could see her. I tiny thing, maybe seven or something. Her golden eyes blinked once but snapped shut when she could tell I was looking at her. I started to walk into the room, slowly at first. "I'm not going to hurt you." I said calmly to her. "My name is Bloodstain. I'm a Shoutman."

She covered her ears at the sound of my name. "No…" She mumbled into a ball. "Mommy…" She cried.

I paused by the doorway leading to the hallway. This was never a good thing. An abandoned child. Never a good thing. I turned around and started going back downstairs. By the time I reached the bottom, Nishera was running out of her building over to me. "Nishera'vi chonz'ti cofz'xishori." (I've found a child.)

"Inoma zawe?" (Is it alive?)

She nodded. "Wronn inoma zawe." (Still alive.)

She grabbed me by my hand to pull me but I pulled her hand out. "Xa'xu. Norrna togn zawe." (Me too. It's a little girl.)

Nishera broke out in a slight smile at hearing the news. Before she could respond Sofie came rushing out of her house, her hands covered in blood. "No such luck. Those Nords are brutal."

I nodded. "There's a little girl in my house…but she's under the bed and not coming out for me." I pointed to Nishera. "She found a child. Still breathing. Go with her."

Sofie nodded and then rushed over to Nishera's building. Nishera looked confused for a second before she raced after Sofie into the building screaming in Ta'agra to stay out of her building.

I found a few still standing Altmer that had stayed to pay respects to a dead person in the fourth building. I walked over to them. "Anyone still alive in that building?"

The guy kneeling over a dead woman shook his head. "No…" He said softly. "They're all dead." He looked up at me. "Can I help you, Bloodstain?"

I nodded. I pointed to the third building. "There's a little girl up there. She won't come out for me. Thought you'd go to her…make her feel safe. Give her a home."

He nodded as tears rolled down his cheek. "Yes, ok." It was then that I noticed he was holding the hand of the dead woman. The tears looked personal. He knew this woman. And…by the looks of it, he loved her.

I bowed my head in respect and started backing away. "I'm sorry for you loss." I said to him as I walked away.

"Be sorry for those who did this." He said in return. I was sure this was going to build into something worse. Just give it time. I looked up at the rising moon. It was probably near 10:00 something. I wanted nothing more than to call this a night and get some rest. I learned nothing but that this town was on the edge of an inner-city war. Great. I shook my head and rubbed the back of my masked head.

Nishera and Sofie came rushing out of the room with a bloodstained little boy. Blood dripped down onto the ground as they carried him out. He had a slash over his chest but it didn't look so deep. And since Sofie was such a great healer I had no doubt that the boy had maybe a 10% chance of living. As they set the boy down, Sofie pushed Nishera away from her as she pulled out a clear quartz wand and started weaving whatever limited magic she could muster.

Nishera looked down at the boy, her tail flicking madly again. I sighed as I walked over to her. I rested my hand on her shoulder, which made her jump a bit before she looked up at me and released a built-up breath. She looked like she was on the edge of crying. I looked up at the sky, saying, "Nira zawe." (It's late.) She nodded. "Ruxugguv, xa rika'zashiro khue suxa'fo. Rufostr, khue gawr'zashiro hiwrna'fo." (I will take you home tomorrow. Tonight, you'll rest in the castle.)

She looked at me for a second before yawning. She nodded. "O-kay." She tried to say as clearly as she could.

I nodded and patted her on the shoulder, which made her purr. I looked from her over to Sofie. "How's the boy?"

"Stable for now…lost a lot of blood." She reported. "I should get him back to the castle to get him ready set him up for real treatment." I nodded. Good, I was done with this place anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>Cearbhail:<br>**

_Ok, so that's this chapter. Nishera is starting to learn Common so yay. We got to meet our two new character. The little girl and the little boy. Vickiera, and Bronsia. One Bosmer, one Altmer. Both orphans. both future important characters. Not sure why but they will be. Anyway, this concludes this chapter.  
><em>


	5. Nightmare Lane

**Cearbhail:  
><strong>

_Things are starting to warm up. And if you think you know where this is going, but the end of the chapter, you may start to have an idea. But I believe this story has only just begun, and soon Bloodstain and his crew will face the darkest enemy I've ever created...the one that I can never kill. And yet...Bloodstain will have to be the one to find out how to do the impossible and kill the unkillable. Well, anyway, enjoy.  
><em>

* * *

><p>[Bloodstain]<p>

_Dear Bloodstain,_

_I know it's been a long time since I've written to you, but it's an urgent matter that must be brought to your attention. I have recently found out that someone has started killing the Shoutmen. I've had an attempt on my life in the past few days and I don't know who I can trust here in New Windhelm, so I have decided to come visit you. I know better than to assume that you'll be in Whiterun, especially since you'll probably have figured out that Shoutmen are being killed. Knowing you, you already know about whatever it is that's going on, and have begun fighting it or running at any rate. I wanted to ask my seer where you were, but she protests that all our magicka has been taken from us, so she can't find you. I'll take the benefit of the doubt and suspect that you already know about the plot against us. And knowing that and who you are, you'll end up in Solitude. So that's where I'll head, unless I hear differently._

_So, in case this carrier hawk gets to you first, I will go ahead and tell you what I've experienced. You remember my great-grandfather, Ulfric Stormcloak? He's still alive…and he's already tried to kill me. What more, there is someone else hunting me. Ulfric called him Asger Stonearm…the true High King. This High King Shouted me out of my room and into the roads of New Windhelm where Ulfric and some of my Stormcloaks waited for me. I just barely escaped, but not before finding out that my Shouts don't work anymore. Why don't they work? Did the 'true High King' do something to me? I'm confused, I'm tired, and I need some help. That's why I'm coming for you, Bloodstain. You're smart, you always know what to do and where to lay low. I will try to find you as quickly as possible._

_Brian 'Storm' Stormcloak, 23 Morningstar: 4e423_

_…_

The streets of Solitude were pretty silent this lonely night. The sky was starless, but there was a long purple sheen that flashed from time to time as moonlight and sunlight hit the layer of oil in the skyline. To be honest, I had forgotten why I had even come outside tonight. Today had been a pretty long day, and with so much going on, you'd think I'd be home sleeping it off with some mead or something. But no, ol' Bloodstain was out and about in the middle of an empty Nordic alleyway. Perhaps I came out here to make sure the Nords were doing ok; perhaps I came out here to make sure the elves weren't causing a riot for the deaths that happened tonight. Or perhaps I was out here to find the person who tried to kill my girlfriend.

The alleyway was dead silent, all puns intended. The only light source was a flickering streetlamp that kept flickering at irregular intervals with an annoying hum of a malfunctioning crystal. The alleyway was filled with Nordic rune graffiti, ancient posters of Nords being promised a high society class standing if they worked hard enough to push themselves out of the slums the elves put them into, and posters of naked Argonians and Khajiits that worked in elven strip clubs.

So…here I was. In the dark, dreary alleyway. Looking at the open street where there were more streetlamps flickering. The flickering from the other streetlamps in my alleyway grew sharper, causing shadows of me to dance all around me. My shadows looked threatening, and they flashed all around me at random intervals, which drew my paranoia up out of my spine. My back shivered and my hair stood straight up as I started pulling the collar of my trench coat up. With a pop of my collar, I cracked my neck and forced my arms to relax. I was here for a reason, I was sure of it. I just had to remember what it was.

"Bloodstain!" I heard behind me. It was a loud booming voice, one that I was certain I had heard before, in the darkest reaches of my mind.

I turned around to see a person standing on the other side of the alleyway. The streetlamp flickered for a second, flashing an image of his shadow upon the walls, until it disappeared again. When the light flashed again, the man was still standing there, arms partially raised up in an aggressive waiting stance. With another flash, I could see he was wearing a dark green cloak with a hood drawn over his head. On his back was a quiver of arrows, and in his right hand a glass bow. He looked like a Shoutman. I nodded to him. "I am Bloodstain. What do you want?"

The light steadied on him for a second. "Bloodstain…you have failed this city!" He screamed to me and pulled an arrow out of his quiver. Before I could react, I felt a slam on my shoulder and I was crashing into the wall beside me. Two more arrows slammed into my knees. I had no chance at this point and I fell straight to the ground. I waited for the finishing move, the arrow that would pierce my head; put me out of my misery…but it never came. When I tried to look up, I couldn't see the man there anymore. There was nothing in the alleyway; the streetlights were steadily beating above me.

As soon as I realized the man was gone, I felt all the pain in me disappear. I pulled myself off my stomach to find out that the arrows were gone, that my wounds never existed. What the heck was going on? Was that Illusion magicka or something? That couldn't be; magicka was Silenced. No one could use any magicka without the help of crystals or something.

"Bloodstain?" I heard a softer voice call behind me. I knew that voice. And it was a voice I didn't need to fear. It was the Seer's voice. I snapped my head around to see Cecilie Battle-Born, and creator of the Shoutmen, standing in the open street filled with bright streetlights behind me. She looked slightly worried as she looked down at me, but her blind eyes looked through me like she could see who I really was, and who I could be…let alone who I would be. What she saw made her worry, which made me worry more.

I pushed myself to my feet, nodding to her. "Seer. Is this another dream?"

She nodded. "I…I believe it is. How else can a dead person talk to you?" She smiled to me as she nodded at me to follow her as she turned around. "Come, Bloodstain. I think we need to talk."

I stood up and joined her in the bright street, which happened to be on the elven High District, a full three stories above the alleyway I was dwelling in before. Eh…it's a dream, they hardly ever make sense. In fact, looking over the street barrier, I could see the very same alleyway far away, even though I could see it directly behind me on the same level.

Cecilie saw me looking from the alleyway to the very same one below us. She smiled and shook her head. "Really…I show up in dream form and you're obsessing about dream dynamics?"

I nodded. "Today's been a long day, Seer."

"Cecilie, I think by now." She said to me. "After all, you are dating my great-grand child."

"Does that bother you?" I looked at her.

She shook her head. "No, not really. I'm more amused, I think. Then again, I was rooting for you the whole time. That's why I dug Reachman out of the snow and restored his body before Fiirnar decided to kill you. I wanted him to find you, free you, and reclaim this country from the Dominion." She stopped when a streetlight above us flickered. She looked up at the streetlamp with her blind eyes. She looked up at it until it flickered again, which caused her to frown. She turned to look at me. "When I found you, you were lying on the ground. Why?"

I shrugged. "There was this guy…he shot me up with arrows."

She nodded. "What did he look like?"

"A cheap imitation of a Shoutman." I replied. "But a very cool imitation of a Shoutman."

"Ok…so costumed?" I nodded. "What kind of costume?"

"Green hunting jacket, giant green hood, glass bow…arrows…"

Cecilie stopped me by putting her hand to my mouth. "I know who you're referring to. The Glass Arrow…he's a Bosmer archer from the Aedra Crisis. One of the famous heroes from the Oblivion Crisis too." She shook her head. "He was a vigilante hero that fought for the helpless. He always had this catchphrase: You have failed Tamriel, or something of the like."

I nodded to her. "He said I had failed this city."

She blinked and looked up at the streetlamp that started flickering more. "There is something wrong here, Bloodstain. This is _MY_ dream, and these streetlamps shouldn't be flickering. There is this…" She looked around the street, where more dark alleyways seemed to open up all around our brightly lit street. As I looked into the alleyways, all with flickering streetlamps, I felt this thing trying to pull me in…to claim me…to swallow me up. "this darkness…" She whispered to me as she reached out for my arm. She wrapped around my arm, hugging herself close to me, more out of fear than some sort of affection.

I found myself stepping in front of her. "There is nothing here that can hurt us." I said to her. As soon as I said that to her, the streetlamp standing above us exploded. I looked around as the other streetlamps on our street started blowing up around us as well.

Cecilie looked around frantically as she put her back to mine. "Bloodstain… I… I have to tell you something."

I looked around my side of the street as shadows started forming in the distance, blurry at first. They danced in the darkest reaches of my vision, so fluid that they looked inhuman, always shifting in form and moving so quickly that I fashioned that they couldn't be real. "Yeah? What is it?"

I didn't hear a response so I turned my head around. When I did, I saw Cecilie wrapped up in the arms of late Councilor Fiirnar. Cecilie struggled to break loose of his grip, but Fiirnar had a pretty good handle on her. "Bloodstain…" She struggled to say as she reached out for me to save her.

I growled as I tried to Shout at Fiirnar. "Yol, Toor, Shul!" When I Shouted, I only felt this gnawing pain in my stomach as my magicka failed to produce itself and launch from my body. My own soul wavered in response, making my entire body cramp up.

Fiirnar smirked as he brought his fangs to Cecilie's throat. "You have failed…everyone, Bloodstain." He announced as he dug his teeth into Cecilie's neck, ripping her neck apart. With a silent bloodied scream, Cecilie fell from his arms turning into a writhing mess on the empty streets of Solitude.

Fiirnar burst out laughing as he melted into a stream of bats as he flew away into the dark alleyways. I fell to my knees as I gazed at the dying Princess Cecilie. She glared up at me with scared wide eyes, her mouth twitching as she tried to speak. She reached out with her hand, and I took it as she slowly withered away. She kept mouthing something and right before her eyes started blinking away, I heard, "Nrillia…" I realized that's what she had been trying to say the whole time. After she said it, her eyes dimmed and her hand released mine.

…

Next thing I knew, I was flinging myself up out of my sheets. I frantically looked around the room for any signs of danger, but all I found was a messenger hawk standing on the window perch. The hawk eyed me cautiously as he waited on his perch with a note wrapped around his leg. The rest of my room seemed pretty simple. There was a lowly burning torch that seemed to be winding down, which darkened my room enough to where I could sleep.

My frantic breathing started to slow down as I stood up from my bed. The morning sun was already seeping through my eastern window, which calmed me down even more. I know that it shouldn't have. I know enough about our world to know that bad guys exist even in the brightest of days, but since the dream I had was shrouded in darkness, it felt nice to see some light peeking through my window. I started walking over to the hawk, looking it over for a second. It was a pure white hawk with blue tail feathers: an Akaviri war hawk. Hadn't seen one of these since I joined Storm up in New Windhelm.

I took the letter from the hawk, opening it up. As I read it, I could tell that I wasn't the only one having a weird day… Storm was having some nostalgia problems as well. The only difference was that his problems existed in reality, while mine rested in my dreams. Other than all that, I guess Storm was on his way to Solitude to visit me. Too bad I didn't really know what was going on. Last I checked, Fiirnar was the one trying to kill the Shoutmen, and I killed him already. Of course, Storm was out of the loop. He lives in Akavir, so far away from us. He wouldn't know about the war here in Skyrim. I hoped he got here in one piece. We have enough problems as it is.

As I turned to feed the carrier hawk, I jerked back as I felt an arrow brush my vision. I snapped my head back as the glass arrow clanked against the stonework of my room. The carrier hawk squawked, flapping his wings and taking off to the air. I dived to the ground before something else could fly through my window to kill me. I sat there for a few seconds, listening for any indication of something coming for me…some surprise, something. There was nothing. I sighed as I pushed myself off the floor, crouch-walking over to the glass arrow sitting on my carpet.

As with the previous arrow, there was a note attached to this one. I pulled the note off the arrow, opening it up. _High King of Skyrim, you have failed Skyrim._ So…that was that then. I took a chance and walked up to the window. I looked out the window, scanning for anything that stood out that I could see. And there, standing on the roof of an Altmer's house was a green figure standing proudly as he glared up at me. He looked just like the man that tried to kill me in my dreams. The figure pointed at me, and I thought he was about to shoot another arrow at me, but he instead turned around and walked to the edge of the building. He launched an arrow and used it to swing himself into the city's inner marketplace.

I sighed as I stepped away from the window. Ok…I had to think this through. Storm said that someone that was dead was hunting him. Asger Stonearm…the true High King… Ulfric Stormcloak…his great-grand father. I remember Asger Stonearm. He was the father of Princess Cecilie. He was the first man who stood up against the Dominion. He died a long time ago, as had Ulfric during the war that gave Skyrim to the Dominion.

Seeing that my day had only just begun, I started putting my mask and armor on. It was a nice ritual, and I found myself calming down as I placed my armor and mask on. The final piece was my trench coat. Throwing it on calmed the rest of me down, and put me in the mood to think about what I knew, what I suspected, and what I believe was going to happen next.

I started traveling down to the kitchen while I continued to think about what I knew already. Storm was being hunted by dead people; and now I was being hunted by someone Cecilie said lived during the Aedra Crisis, which was even older than Ulfric or Stonearm. Even Cecilie spoke of him like he was a legend and not some person she personally knew. I would have said that Cecilie was just a figment of my dream, but since my dream was suddenly coming true before my eyes…I had more reason to think she actually visited me in my sleep. Which was nice…but was she dead now? Or did dream deaths mean nothing to her? But…wasn't she dead anyway? She was killed by Fiirnar a long time ago. How could a dead person visit me in my sleep? I don't know…but how does a dead person try to kill a Shoutman?

By the time I reached the dining room, I had a headache starting to form. The dining room was filled with the people that used to be feeders but now lived in this castle as residents. The feeders that lived here had been feeding longer than I had, and on a more regular basis. Most of them were wandering zombies that came in here to eat and then wandered their beds to rest. Some of them that were more cognizant acted like our guards and house cleaners, depending on age and what they wanted to do. We didn't exactly force anyone to do anything, but after being a breathing food bag, a small job makes you feel more important than some feeder's midnight snack.

Of course, there were the mindless drones wandering around the tables, and then there was my small team sitting at their own table. Deathlake and Sofie sat near Nishera and one of a group of Khajiit feeders. Deathlake and Sofie were eating their breakfast, while helping Nishera as she sat there with a notebook and a quill. Sofie would say something, write it in Nishera's notebook, and then the older Khajiit male would say something in Ta'agra and write it next to whatever Sofie said.

I scratched my head as I walked up to join them at the table. "I cannot wait to tell you what an interesting morning I've had." I said to Deathlake and Sofie as I sat down to join them.

Deathlake smirked at me, patting me on the shoulder. "Masturbating may sound interesting to you, but to the rest of us it's perfectly normal."

I thought about commenting on that, but I thought better of it. Telling him about my dream about Cecilie would only open up to some statement about wet dreams, and I really didn't need to open that box. I shook my head as I sat down, saying, "An arrow was shot into my room. It had a note that said that the High King has failed Skyrim. And when I looked outside, there was this guy dressed in a green cloak looking up at me."

Deathlake snorted at that, looking over at me. "Geez…I come into town and everyone starts wearing a costume. I must be quite the trendsetter."

I heard Nishera groan as she slammed the notebook down on the table. "Khow'vi sigz'wetoge khu!" (This is too hard!) She covered her face and shook her head in despair.

I looked from Deathlake over to Sofie and the older Khajiit. "What's going on with Nishera?"

Sofie looked over at me. "Oh…Nishera wants to learn how to speak Common. Indra and I are trying to teach her, but she can't seem to get the understanding yet."

I looked over at Nishera, saying, "Tuuz nehk." (Good luck.)

That seemed to raise her head out of her arms. She nodded to me and went back to looking down into the notebook. "Hello…" She said from the notebook, looking over to me. "I…" She said, squinting her nose as she said it. "I wish… stay, learn. Help."

I nodded to her. "You are welcome to stay as long as you like."

She looked confused but she smiled and shrugged when she heard 'stay'. She turned her attention away as she started talking to Indra in Ta'agra. Then Indra would say something to Sofie in Common, and she'd write it in Nishera's notebook. I'm guessing Indra can't write. Seeing that he only has one arm probably make it pretty hard. And seeing as he's really old and withered, I'm guessing he can't really use that arm anymore anyway. In fact, I didn't really know much about Indra, except that he's one of the oldest slaves I've ever met.

"You, Indra." I said to him. It drew his attention to look up at me. "I'm curious. What kind of person were you before you became a feeder?"

He looked up at me with the strongest set of burdened eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He said as he leaned one his one withered arm.

"Try me." I said in return. "This has already been an impossible morning for me, I think I can handle a little impossible scenarios."

He scoffed as he rolled his eyes. "Fine, but I warned you." He released a hollow breath as he said, "I'm…well…let me think. I was born in the third era…"

"What?" Sofie and I spat out.

He nodded like he expected the question. "I fought in the border wars of Elsweyr and Black Marsh…I fought in the Oblivion Crisis…the Aedra Crisis…the war in Cyrodiil against the Dominion. I became a slave and was shipped to Stros M'kai where I stayed a slave for…gods know how long I stayed there. And then…I met this kid…a bard. He set me free…and I died. Then I came back…then I fought with Skyrim against the Dominion. We lost, I became a feeder…and now…" He looked at me. "And now I'm talking to you."

"You…you lived for this long?" Sofie said as she shook her head.

He nodded. "Yup. Been a very long…very upsetting life. But I still live."

"Why?" I asked him. "How?"

He sighed. "Long ago, I fought this guy… General Victorious. He had this thing for making people suffer. And he thought that a fitting punishment for killing him was to curse me with eternal life, so that I could see just how dark and evil this world was. What he did not count on was that I would meet people in this world that show just the opposite. Sure, an asshole or two try to ruin it for everyone…but there's always one dick on standby to fuck that asshole so that he stops shitting all over us." He gestured to me and Deathlake. "You two are the biggest dicks I've met in this century…and Fiirnar was quite an asshole. Luckily, you fucked him so hard he blew up."

Deathlake scoffed. "Fiirnar wasn't an asshole; he was just a pussy so full of shit that he thought he was an asshole."

Indra nodded. "Perhaps he was." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. Either way he's fucked."

I shook my head. "No…for some reason, I think he's ready to go a second round."

"Dead people don't just get up and walk around." Indra said to me.

I looked at him. "Ever hear of the Glass Arrow?"

That caused him to pause. "Wow…" He wiped his eyes with his one good arm. "That's an old name from…what? 400 years ago? Something like that." He nodded to me. "Yeah, I knew the guy. We fought the Aedra together in the final battle. We also fought the Dominion together. I watched him die. He watched me die…but I didn't stay dead."

"And neither did he." I produced the glass arrow that was shot through my window from my coat. "Look familiar?" I showed it to Indra.

Indra took the arrow, examining it. "Well…" He nodded, looking up at me. "I don't know what to say."

"I do…" I looked around the table. "Storm sent me a letter by carrier hawk. He was attacked by Asger Stonearm, the High King that declared war on the Dominion 100 years ago, and by Ulfric Stormcloak."

Deathlake was the first one to rub his chin. "So, you saw this old guy…and Storm has fought some really old guys too…" Then he looked over at Indra. "And we're talking to a really old guy."

Indra rolled his eyes. "This old guy can still kick your ass."

Deathlake smirked at him. "I liked it better when we were talking about dicks and pussies. Can we go back to that conversation? Or about asses, I'm not too picky on that."

I groaned as I stood up from the table. "Look…something serious is going on here. We're not just dealing with some terrorist Dominion cell here…but something worse. And if my dreams mean anything at all…there is a darkness growing here in Solitude and we need to fix it."

"The best way to do that is to go out and talk to the people." Indra said, looking up at me. He gestured to Nishera. "I will stay here and help the girl learn more about what's going on up here. Perhaps by the end of the day, she'll know some history."

I nodded to him and looked over at Sofie and Deathlake. "You two ready?"

Sofie nodded, grabbing her Reachman cloak. She pulled out her makeup kit filled with several traditional war paints. She quickly covered her eyes with dark green and red paint, while drawing lines of red and white over her cheeks. She slipped a feather into her braided hair and stood up. "I'm ready for war."

Deathlake sighed as he stood up. "I have to go take a dump first."

* * *

><p><strong>Cearbhail:<br>**

_Did anyone like the Team America reference? I thought it was long overdue. Well, anyway, things might take a turn for the worse soon, but I'm not too sure on that yet.  
><em>


	6. Glass Arrow

**Cearbhail:  
><strong>

_Not sure what I should say about this chapter. So, I will say nothing. "Nothing!"  
><em>

* * *

><p>[Bloodstain]<p>

_Bloodstain's journal, 26 Morningstar 5e000_

_Yesterday was something else. First, it started with a murder attempt on the High Queen's life. A note exclaimed that the Nords didn't deserve power and that this city would go to war with us if we didn't return power to the elves. So, I set out as Bloodstain to find out who did this and why. I was led to a Dunmer cornerclub where the bartender basically told me that I had traded one injustice for another, and that war could only follow because of it. I doubted him; he proved me right. Later that very day I heard about a murder in the High District…the land of the perfect. Nords had killed a bunch of elves to claim ownership of the district. The worst part of the whole ordeal? The Nords believed they were in the right. They had a Nord ruler, so they were now the top dogs; could do whatever they wanted, could take whatever property they believed they should own…and worst of all, were allowed to kill anyone that stood in their way. The bartender was right; I had traded one bad system for another. But I decided to fix it. Down with the old ways, installing the new. I will talk to the High Queen about it later, when she's awake anyway._

_That night, while I rested, I was visited by a vision of an old hero; the Glass Arrow. He filled me with arrows, telling me I'd failed Skyrim. Was he my subconscious telling me about my own grievances with my failure to protect the High Elves from the Nords that killed five or six families? Was it that I couldn't have seen it coming, prevented the massacre to start with? Or was there something more going on? The Glass Arrow tried to kill me, but he vanished, and Cecilie Battle-Born appeared. She filled me in on what was going on…or at least tried to. She whispered one word…Nrillia. I don't know what that word means, but it sounds like a name, perhaps Bosmer. I don't know. I would look into it if we had text materials that had historical value. The closest we had were the journals of past heroes like me. Perhaps we had a journal or two that referenced to this Nrillia…whatever or whoever she may be._

_I awoke to the sound of a hawk landing on the windowsill. Storm had an encounter with two dead people: High King Asger and Ulfric Stormcloak. Things are getting weirder than I'm already used to. To make matters even weirder, an arrow was shot into my window. It was from the Glass Arrow, telling me that I had failed Solitude. Three supposedly dead people are running around Skyrim…hunting Shoutmen. I need to find out what's going on. I think this is all connected somehow; I just need to find out where the link is. Since I saw the Glass Arrow in the High District, I have decided to start there. Deathlake and Sofie are joining me._

_Bloodstain._

_…._

The streets of the High District were lively today. Altmer were out and about, Bosmer running around too. They looked nervous, and I could understand why. Just yesterday four families were murdered by a group of Nords. I had arrived too late to prevent damage, but the Altmer were able to stop the Nords before they killed another family. Out of the 14 killed, only two survived: a little boy, and a little girl. The little boy was back at the castle, resting in his own bed next to Vivian. He was cut pretty deep and wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. The girl had not been touched, but she was too scared to come out from under her bed for me. I had an Altmer take her for me. I was on my way to see if he'd kept his word. Honestly, I didn't know where he lived, but if I ran into him, I'd find out. Of course, if I looked at the bloodstained house and found that little girl still there, I would have my answer.

I walked in silence with Sofie and Deathlake at my back as we walked through the streets. The Altmer saw us a mile away, clearing a straight path as we walked through the streets. Their eyes were on us the whole way through the town. They were the eyes of the hunted; the eyes of cautious prey that feared it would be consumed next. The Altmer feared me. I had found out that when I first arrived here that the Shoutmen were the boogeymen of the elves. We fought the Dominion and all it stood for. That meant we opposed the elven order. These elves believed that meant hating and killing them; it did not mean that at all. I opposed slavery, I opposed the conditions humans and the beasts lived through, and I hated the way the Dominion conducted themselves in front of their lessers. Their attitudes, their posture, the way they spoke. It all said one thing: I'm superior, you're nothing. It was reflected in their treatment of my people 100 years ago. It was reflected when they claimed Tamriel for themselves. It was reflected when they purged Skyrim of anyone worthy of the title High King. They did everything they could to destroy the will of man, so that the elves would live on top. I only ever wanted for them to fall down beside us, so that we could stand together. That was the mission of the Shoutmen: Shout loud enough to be heard and seen.

The Altmer continued to clear out of the street around us as I came to a stop. I looked around at their faces for a second. These Altmer looked clean: rich bright colored clothing, fancy haircuts with strips of colorful hair extensions, and colorful makeups that covered their naturally golden features. I had gotten so used to seeing Altmer that took their golden expressionism to the extreme: where they wore all golden elven armor and yellow-reflective dresses that matched their skin color (almost making them appear nude sometimes), as well as pure golden or white hair. It had become the standard for how I saw Altmer, faux golden wannabes. These Altmer looked so different, like they had become something else entirely. Yet, they feared me like any Altmer I've met before now.

An Altmer that noticed me looking at her, even though my eyes are covered, averted her eyes away from me and rushed away from me as she walked away. The other Altmer took to her example and started looking away, as if pretending I wasn't standing her right now. I looked back at Deathlake. "Does something seem off to you?"

He glanced around, nodding. "Nope. I'm definitely 'on' right now." He said as he looked at the same Altmer woman darting away. "Yup, I'm on." He looked back up at me. "She's cute."

"Old enough to be your daughter." I reminded him.

"I'm not old, Bloodstain. Only 22." He turned around to chase after the Altmer. "Hey, cutie." He said as he followed her.

I looked over at Sofie. "What do you think?"

She looked around the elves. "I think they're expecting punishment for something."

"Think they know what I want to know?"

She shrugged. "You can ask."

I nodded and reached into my overcoat. Some nearby elves darted behind some obvious cover as I did so. I pulled out the glass arrow that had been shot into my window this morning. I showed it in front of me, saying, "I want to know if anyone here knows where I can find the 'Glass Arrow.' He wants to talk to me, and I'm here to chat. Not to fight."

That was all I needed to say. The elves were quick to clear the marketplace. They just as quickly rushed into the alleyways. Within seconds, the marketplace was just the three of us. Well, the three of us and the Altmer teenager chatting up Deathlake. He grabbed her by the hand and led her into the alleyway, pausing only to look at me and wink before doing so.

I rolled my eyes and looked at Sofie. "Can you believe him?"

She nodded. "Totally. The Altmer are a beautiful race after all. If I found myself a hunky golden man with skin as fine as silk…" She hummed to herself, closing her eyes and biting her lip. "You know I'd be on that faster than your mask is on your face when someone tries to kill someone else." Ok then.

I turned back to the marketplace. "Glass Arrow! I have received your letter! Show yourself so that we may discuss this like adults!"

"My letter was addressed to High King Motierre." A light voice called above us. I looked up to see the very same Bosmer standing on a rooftop of a three story building. "Are you admitting to being the High King?"

"I am admitting to handling his concerns. I am his negotiator." I took a step towards the building. "Mind joining me down here on the ground?"

Glass Arrow didn't wait as he jumped from the building. He fell for three stories, landing heavily on the ground. He landed in a crouch, throwing up dust as he touched down. He rose from his crouch, his knees popping and creaking as he did so. Even from where I was standing, I could see his flawless face. He had on a green mask that matched the rest of his outfit, but even with it on, I could tell this Bosmer was maybe mid-twenties. There was no way this was the same Bosmer that Indra fought alongside so long ago. Even Indra aged while being cursed; and liches become noticeable. Vampires had fangs, but they knew how to hide those. What they couldn't hide were the famous yellow irises. And I saw none; just the normal red eyes of the Bosmer.

I nodded a welcome to the Glass Arrow. "Thank you for being civil about this."

He nodded in return. "I am always willing to be civil to my enemies."

"Are we enemies?" I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets. I started pacing back and forth. "Why?"

The Glass Arrow didn't move from his spot as he watched me pace. "You represent the unrest of this city; the sickness to come. If left in your hands, this city will burn."

I nodded. "You are referencing to the Nordic Jarl thing then?"

He shook his head. "The idea of a republic, actually. You have several races all living here, and you're about to suggest throwing them in a room together to lead a town. It's stupid." He said. "You've traded one broken system for one that will turn the races against each other. The races will learn what it really means to be distant, when their leaders cannot get justice from other leaders."

I nodded. Ok, I think I understood what this was about. "So, you have a better suggestion?"

"The return of the Dominion." He shrugged. "The lives of the people here were determined before you arrived. Everyone knew their role, and you've upset that balance. People are lost, people are angry. If you let this continue, this town will be destroyed, and it will be your doing. I will not let this town suffer at your hands."

So then, this was one of the Dominion agents still living in this town then. "The last time I let the Dominion rule something, my friends started dying so that I would start a war. And then Councilor Fiirnar used that to kill everyone without due process. Think that was balanced?"

"Fiirnar was a fool." Glass Arrow started. "You do not know what you've started Bloodstain."

"What have I _not_ started?" I looked over at Sofie. "I raised an army, taught humans that they belong to stand beside elves as equals…taught slaves that they have their own lives to lead. I killed a 300 year old Vampire Lord, brought a nearly destroyed line of Nordic rulers back to power, and destroyed all the Dwemer ruins around Tamriel. I think what I have started is a new era…that you're refusing to accept. We cannot go back…and we _will not_ go back to the Dominion."

Glass Arrow nodded his head like he already knew my answer. "Then…I will have to be the one to kill you…the High Queen, the High King…and bring the old age back. You have been warned, Bloodstain." He turned to leave the marketplace, putting his back to me

"What makes you think I'll let you get away?" I asked him as I pulled out my crystal dagger.

He smirked, turning his head just enough to look at me. "Because you need to help your friend."

I had a sudden thought of Deathlake in the alleyway with the young Altmer. "Sofie, go help Deathlake." I said, never taking my eyes off Glass Arrow. Sofie nodded and took off for the alleyway, leaving me alone with the Bosmer. I brought my knife up. "Are you sure about this?"

His hands moved so quickly that I barely could tell they were moving at all. All I knew was that there was a sharp pain in my arm, the arm holding my knife. My overcoat was enchanted to resist all sorts of ballistic damage, as well as sharp blades like swords and knives. That didn't stop the pain from traveling to my arm like I was being stabbed or shot. And that's what just happened. There was a sudden pain like I was shot in the arm with an arrow. As I snapped to the side, I could see the arrow rebounding off my overcoat, falling gently to the ground. As soon as that happened, I felt six more _thwacks_ against my body. One almost scored me in the neck, two tried to catch me in the knees (luckily they didn't), and one slammed into my shin. Before even a second had passed, I was on my side, wrapping my head up as more arrows slammed into my back.

"Your enchanted coat is impressive, Bloodstain. No wonder you've survived this long." Glass Arrow said from behind me. "You will die now."

I took a deep breath as I rolled up onto my feet. As I rolled up onto the balls of my feet, I felt two slams at the backs of my knees. My legs buckled and I found myself falling into a seiza position, my legs tucked underneath me. "Are you the same Glass Arrow as from the Aedra War?" I suddenly called out to the Bosmer behind me.

There was a pause. "What?" He asked like the very question threw him off. "You're about to die, and you ask that?"

I nodded. "I'm always trying to learn more about history." I ventured, trying to think of anyway that could possibly stall Glass Arrow long enough to save my life.

"I don't care." He replied. Oh well, I tried.

An explosion in the alleyway shook the ground underneath me, throwing me forward and crashing me into the pavement. An arrow meant for my head slammed into the bricks in front of me. I heard the Glass Arrow stumble as well, so I took my chance. I spun myself around and pulled out my crossbow. I thought I might have to fight him, so I thought this would be the perfect time to bring one along. I took aim before the Glass Arrow had time to balance himself. I let the bolt fly, and I scored the Arrow right in the shoulder. Unlike my overcoat, his jacket didn't seem enchanted to the bolt. He took it as like anyone I've met. He shrugged to the side, instantly grabbing for his shoulder. He cried out in annoyance and then looked at me with some vile eyes. He tried to bring his arm up to load an arrow, but that bolt pretty much ruined that for him.

I pushed myself up onto my feet, my knees crying out in pain from taking so many failed attempts at crippling me. I loaded another bolt, aiming my crossbow at the Glass Arrow. "Tell me something."

He glared at me as he pushed himself back up to his feet. "What?" He groaned the word out.

"You told me that I didn't know what I had started. Why don't you fill me in? What have I started?" I stayed far enough away that I could finish him off if he even twitched an arm.

The Glass Arrow smiled. "You know that whenever you take a powerful influence away that another one will rise to take its throne." He looked at me. "When you killed Councilor Fiirnar, another councilor took his place as Head of the Aldmeri Dominion. She is on her way to take your little army down."

"What's her name?"

The Glass Arrow smirked as he glared at me. "You already know." He whispered to me. "We will meet again, Bloodstain." He started to sling his bow across his back, perhaps preparing to pull out a smoke pellet that would let him escape. I pulled the trigger and next thing I saw was the Glass Arrow's head rocking back, a bolt sticking out between his eyes. His body fell to the ground and I gave him the dragon: the index finger and pinky finger brought up in an offensive manner.

"Go fuck a dragon." I said to his lifeless corpse as it crumpled to the floor. He wasn't coming back anytime soon.

I turned my attention away from the lifeless corpse of the Glass Arrow and rushed to the alleyway. I hadn't heard anything from Deathlake or Sofie since they disappeared into the alleyway, so I was worried. I loaded another bolt in my crossbow before I rounded the corner leading to the dark alleyway. What I found was unexpected. The alleyway opened up to a small café. Deathlake was sitting with the Altmer girl. They were drinking coffee, laughing, and sharing a small strawberry sponge cake. Sofie sat next to them, eating her own meal, laughing at their conversation.

I threw my arms up, completely forgetting that I was worried about them. "Guys…what the fuck? I was in the middle of a battle and you abandoned me."

Deathlake looked over at me. "To be honest, I didn't know about the fight." He stated, and then he gestured to the Altmer girl. "But for this cutie, I'd gladly ditch you."

Sofie smiled up at me. "And you told me to go help Deathlake. So…I'm being a good wingman." She put her hands on Deathlake's arms, smiling at the Altmer girl. "He's an amazing man. You should give him your frequency."

The Altmer girl nodded and showed her crystal card to Deathlake. "It's 868-2342." She winked to him. "And the name is Ariel." Ariel stood up, slipping her crystal card back into her pocket, winked once more to Deathlake, and then turned around. We watched as she walked away from us.

I joined the two idiots at the table, sitting down. "The Glass Arrow is dead."

Deathlake nodded. "Knew you had it in you, buddy. You just killed a 300 year-old man. Congrats. I just got a date with a hot 19 year-old Altmer."

"And I was a good wingman." Sofie said with all smiles.

"Before I killed the Glass Arrow, he told me that, because I killed Fiirnar, 'she' was coming. I need to figure out what's going on." I looked at both of them.

Deathlake exhaled. "I know a lot about the Dominion, but 'she' could mean almost anyone."

"All the Vampire Lords that ruled for the past 300 years are dead. We killed them. So…it has to be someone new." I looked at Deathlake to see if he was drawing any sort of conclusion from that.

"Plenty of girls in the Dominion that aren't vampires, dude." He replied, leaning back in his chair. He shrugged. "But…for this to be important, to reply to her as 'she' and not by a name must mean she's well-known."

"Can you think of anyone like that?" Sofie asked Deathlake.

I watched him as he scratched his chin in thought. We sat like that for perhaps a few minutes while he considered it. I had time to order my own small spongy cake before I heard an answer. "Nope, none." He said, shrugging. "No one that important other than Councilor Fiirnar, and he's dead." He looked up at me. "Sorry, Bloodstain. Fiirnar kept a pretty tight leash on his Dominion. Even his own soldiers and leaders were lessers to him. It's because of his death and the other Lords that the Dominion is not retaliating at us already. They're in a loss as to what to do next. Add the rising revolution here in Skyrim, the destruction of their plants, and the global Silence, and you have an ineffective not to mention widespread and unequipped government. Their glory days are well behind them, and they know it. Fiirnar saw to that. He was the weakness of the Dominion, and no one can bend minds like him. No one can rally an army like him." He shook his head. "That's why I sided with you, Bloodstain. The Dominion is finished."

I hope he was right, because I had a nagging feeling at the back of my neck that this has only just begun. I kept feeling that little set of eyes glaring at me from the darkness, just like they did in my dream. Nrillia. That name kept popping up, reminding me of what Cecilie said. I think tonight I needed to research that word. There might be something about it somewhere. But first, I had some other things to look at. To start with, I had to check up on the girl that I tried to save yesterday. And then I had to talk to Vivian about my suggested system. I believe it was the only way we'd get out of this rut we'd put ourselves in.

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><p><strong>Cearbhail:<br>**

_So, anyone want to guess what will happen next?  
><em>


	7. Nrillia

**Cearbhail:  
><strong>

_I'd like to give a standing ovation to Guest who figured out the plot of After Shoutmen. I never really tried to keep it a secret, but I applaud him on figuring it out. Of course it's not what it seems. I won't ruin the surprise though. If you think hard enough, you might come to the conclusion I'm building towards. And you might even see what's going to happen next. Hopefully. If the Glass Arrow in Bloodstain's dream was alive and real... what about Fiirnar?  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Bloodstain's Journal, 26 Morningstar 5e000<em>

_Earlier today, I met one of the Dominion agents still roaming around the town. He called himself the Glass Arrow. He wanted the Dominion to return to power and for me to step aside while he did just that. I don't believe he had any negative image of killing anyone, just putting a Dominion agent into power. I don't know who he planned on bringing here to run things, or whether he planned on being the ruler of the town himself. He didn't seem like the type that wanted to run things, just push things into action. He seemed to think my idea of a republic was stupid; that it wouldn't work and we'd end up with more dead bodies. I do hope that he is wrong, because I do not see any other way for this to peacefully resolve itself._

_I fought the Glass Arrow when he could not be swayed to let me continue with my work. I managed to subdue him after a long fight, and I asked him what he planned to do with Fiirnar dead. He mentioned a 'she' and that 'she' was coming to take back what I had taken from the Dominion. I do not know who this 'she's is, but apparently I already do know. I have decided to do research into this 'she' of the Dominion to find out who 'she' is. I hate the Pronoun Game; it always leaves me wondering if I'm researching the right individuals. I also have to look up the word "Nrillia". Cecilie tried to warn me of it. Perhaps it's a weapon of some sort. Before I can do any of that, I need to see about getting this new system in order. I will suggest the idea with the High Queen and see if we can get it started. And before that, I will talk to the Altmer that survived the incident last night. I hope the little girl is just fine. I don't know where to find her, but going to the old apartment would be a good start._

_Bloodstain._

_…_

Deathlake and Sofie returned to the castle after the battle against the Glass Arrow. Sofie was going to look into some of the older journals for any mention of a Nrillia. Cecilie seemed to know the name, so I had her look into Cecilie's journal, as well as her mother's: Lydia. Perhaps one of them knew what a Nrillia was. Deathlake was going back to the castle to get ready for his date. I guess he's going out of costume and wants to look his best for it. So, for once in the past few days I'm alone. Not going to lie, I don't like it. I like having a team watch my back. Things are getting weird, and I like the added eyes to watch for any attacks at my back. Not that I couldn't protect myself. I used to work on my own. It was when I started having a team that real stuff started to happen. But stuff has already happened, and I doubt it was going to lessen anytime soon.

Today the massacred sector of town was not as crowded as it was yesterday. To be honest, it was like a ghost town. That was to be expected. I didn't expect there to be Altmer or Nords gathering around to discuss the local news on bloodstained dirt and grass. And that's what this part of town was now: bloodstained. The walls of the houses, which looked rich and beautiful at one time: golden slabs of metal and stonework that looked beautiful in design. The rich colorful glass windows, the beautifully crafted doorways and shrines in the front yards…all tainted by the blood gathered by the bodies that lied here just yesterday. Fences were broken and tossed aside, the front yards torn apart. The window smashed. Some of them you could see a river of blood had flowed down them. Those were the windows the elves were slammed down into the sharp glass to kill them. The insides of the houses weren't any better off.

I groaned as I headed to the house I saw the little girl in yesterday. The front door was still busted in. The blood covering the front of the house was dried into a black stain that was beginning to chip away. The dead body sitting in front of the house was now gone, properly disposed of according to Altmer traditions. Cremated so that his spirit returned to Nirn to reincarnate. I sure hope they came into a happier time. According to their beliefs, the Altmer spirit can reincarnate at any time period, forward, backwards…it doesn't matter really. They just come back wherever they need to come back to. Seems like a nice thought. But that means that Fiirnar popped up somewhere too. Or will again at least. Perhaps he'll be different, but…souls don't change who they are, even if their form does.

I ducked my head in respect as I stepped into the house. I looked around for a second. The house looked cleaned out. Nothing remained of it. The only thing I saw was one abandoned couch where the old woman had been killed yesterday. No one wanted a bloodstained couch to lie down on. It would be a constant reminder that someone died on it. Sitting in a dried pile of blood was a book. I remember the book from yesterday. The Chronicles of Fiirnar the Great.

An idea sparked in my head and I walked over to the book. I bent down to pick it up. It was written by Fiirnar himself. 'She' might be mentioned in here. I opened the door to page one, hoping to see something.

_Chapter One: The Rise of the Dominion_

_Councilor's Log: Calendar Date 4e224 20th Frostfall_

_With the conquest of Skyrim, the death of the High Queen, I am finally able to work on telling the tale of how my Dominion rose to power. We are the victors of Tamriel, so as with any truth told throughout history, you will now hear how it really happened. We won, so it is our right to tell is how we saw it. The Dominion began its roots in the Oblivion Crisis, however the Councilors I respected and worked aside were with me before the Crisis ever began. You see…Summerset Isles were always under some sort of attack, and we were the protectors. We took it upon ourselves to fight the darkness that threatened to take our Isles from us. There were six of us: Fiirnar, Ocato, Lucinda, Nrillia, Brasing, and Requen. We were the founders of the Aldmeri Dominion during the time of the Oblivion Crisis._

_We started as a team before the Crisis fell upon us, however. Nearly 30 years before the Crisis began there was an island out of Summerset Isles. It was a cursed island, one that people never ventured to. It was a home to liches and necromancers. We left the island alone, fearing that one day we'd bring war down upon us. We should have destroyed it. It started with corpses floating onto the beaches. Then the corpses started moving, biting children. The battlemages of Alinor were dispatches to put them down. We decided to take drastic action: one decisive strike against the island. A theoretical magicka cannon was in design, funded by the Alinor Institute of Magicka Development. Six of us were selected for the project. One mage student from each discipline: Illusion, Destruction, Restoration, Conjuration, Alteration, and Mysticism. It was our job to find a way to make the cannon work. We had one month to come up with something workable before the battlemages declared open war on the island. We wouldn't risk more dead children._

_Over the course of the month that followed the six of us worked with the Battlemage Corps of Alinor to build the cannon. We had a rough draft of the thing within a week, and over the course of four weeks, we had the skeleton of the actual cannon assembled. When pressured to demonstrate its usefulness, we tested it on a nearby abandoned island. We were able to rip the island apart with the magicka cannon. We found the cannon incapable of recharging, and it pulled magicka from around us. The cannon almost killed us all when we used it the first time. It was Nrillia's idea to pull magicka from the River of Magicka. Gods bless her. If it were not for her, we would have never blown up the island that threatened to destroy our way of life. That was beginning of our reign. The beginning of the Aldmeri Dominion, even if we never dreamed of it at the time. We were just hopeful children, fresh out of high school._

_There was backlash for using the fully operational magicka cannon on the island full of liches and necromancers. We estimated that the projected annihilation of the island could cause a tidal wave that would possibly destroy several ports spread across Tamriel. We still blew up the island. There was nothing left of it. And a tidal wave tore across the ocean. We threw up a massive Shield that protected our nation, but the tidal wave destroyed ports in Elsweyr, Hammerfell, and Black Marsh. In retaliation for the destruction of the port towns, a strike team from Black Marsh stormed Alinor nearly 25 years later. They destroyed the cannon. The cannon's destruction caused a chain reaction that blew up half of Alinor, the Institute of Magicka Development, and the Battlemages Corps of Alinor. We were in a state of duress, one that took years to recover from. It was only years later that the Oblivion Gates opened up._

_So, here we were. Alinor was in a state of emergency. Our battlemages were young, inexperienced, ill-trained for an invasion of Daedra. So, I had to step up. My wife, Nrillia, myself, and the rest of the remaining survivors of Project Magicka Cannon stepped up to protect our town. We became the Aldmeri Dominion. We took the fight to the Daedra. Nrillia, who was crippled beyond repair, resorting to using her Conjuration magicka to bring us reinforcements instead of joining us out in the battlefield. I couldn't blame her though. She was crippled and couldn't leave her healing bed in the River of Magicka. As we fought the Oblivion Gates, our numbers started to dwindle. Nrillia sought a way to save lives by resurrecting already deceased corpses. She tapped into Nirn's most potent magicka and knowledge to learn how to impart her soul into bodies. As we started losing ground, as Alinor was prepared to fall, I watched as hundreds of bodies pulled up through the sands of the beach, all of which people we had lost before the battle had begun. The battlemages we lost in the explosion of the cannon. With those battlemages, we managed to fight back the Daedra. We defended not only Alinor, but all of Summerset Isles. That was the birth of the Necromage: Councilor Nrillia. My second-in-command, and the love of my life. The two of us became the backbone of the Aldmeri Dominion. I recruited new soldiers, she created new corpses to fight for us. We defeated the Daedra in the end._

_…_

I closed the book, nodding my head. Nrillia. She might be the 'She' I've been hearing about. It makes sense with what Cecilie tried to tell me about her. Nrillia seemed to have been something of a necromage. It's not a thing I've run into before, but I guess there was more I had to find out about her first. If she was coming here, then she had to be alive somehow. She might be a vampire, I don't really know. I didn't have enough facts about her. I looked down at the book written by Fiirnar. There was probably more about her in this book. Lucky me. I had something I could study up on. I would learn more about the Dominion if I read this. Any surviving problems that might come for me might be mentioned in this book. Don't know why I didn't keep it when I saw it earlier. Just angry that Fiirnar wrote his own history, I think. Should have kept it. Know my enemies, all of them. Inside and out.

I traveled out of the room with the book. I looked up at the staircase I traveled up yesterday. I really didn't want to go up there to find that girl still lying under her bed. I hope someone came by to take her away. I slowly glided up the staircase, keeping my feet silent as I looked around for any signs of bandits waiting for me. I don't know what to expect, but it is never a good thing to walk into a murder scene. Looters get nervous when a crime fighter spots them looting.

The second floor of the house was just as empty as the downstairs. There wasn't a trace of anything, unless it was covered in blood. Then it was abandoned and broken apart to salvage whatever could be salvaged. I walked straight to the child's room. Walking through the doorway, I saw only two puddles of dried blood in the middle of the room, where a discarded board game sat uselessly in the middle of the looted room. Not a trace of anything remained. No rugs, no beds, no clothes. Everything was gone. And I bet it was the same for the other houses. It was amazing how fast people will decide to break the law when the law had already been broken in the same night. I was surprised there had been no riots, no torches, no destroyed stores filled with looters. Violence always begets more violence. Something like a murder will always cause a riot. To have nothing as severe follow, I must give some respect to the Altmer living up here. They handled it well enough. They caught whatever murderers they could and then began public justice, as it is usually handled in the darker corners of society.

I scanned the rest of the house before concluding that the girl was gone. Good thing. Having to witness everything she had being taken away: family, all her belongings… it would have ruined her for life. I hope she was happy wherever she ended up, but she could just as easily be living on the streets now. Children always seem to think that the house they grew up in is always the best place to stay, even if that house had been ripped apart. Something about a stable environment to feel sheltered in. The fact that she wasn't here was a good sign that she was in safe hands. Perhaps the Altmer I met yesterday took her in. I had no way of knowing where he was, or where he lived, so I was more than content to just go back to the castle and tell Vivian about my idea for how to deal with the issues plaguing our town. I don't know how she'll take to my idea of a council over a jarl, but…she lived in a cave her whole life. She probably won't care one way over the next if I ask her to ditch her Nordic roots.

I walked out of the house, looking around for any sign of the Altmer I met yesterday. Nothing. The only thing I saw was a Nord walking up the staircase. She looked around for a second, looking for someone, and then started walking towards the rows of houses that hosted the most violent tea party last night. What was she doing up here? I decided to step out into the yard to meet her. It didn't look like she had noticed me yet. I could tell by looking at her that she was too busy looking at the houses and all the blood to actually see me.

"What are you doing up here?" I called from the front yard, which drew a gasp of surprise and a jump with it.

She looked down at me, her eyes wide and fearful. "Bloodstain." She gasped something near relief as she grabbed her chest like she was catching her own heartbeat. "Thank the gods. My father didn't come home last night. He said something about coming up here to secure a new home for us." She waved her hand around the mess of houses. "Is _this_ what he meant by it?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Unless your father was a different Nord that didn't go on a killing spree last night. But…"

"Killing spree?" She hid the horror on her face with her hands, shaking her head. "No…Dad would never do something like that." She sank down onto her knees, hopelessly trying to keep herself from crying.

I decided to wait for her to finish before telling her what happened to him. Better for her to know now. At least she can go visit him. "Your father didn't come home last night, right?" She nodded. "Got it. He's in jail." I walked past her into the street. "You should leave before the Altmer here decide you're here for trouble. If you want to visit your father, he's in the castle's dungeon. We're waiting to pass judgment on him."

"Waiting on what?" She looked up at me.

"A new government." I replied. "About to talk to the High Queen about it." I nodded to the girl and turned around. "Have a nice day." Like she would though. She just saw what her father was capable of. That would be enough to scar her for life. Would she be angry at him, model after him? I don't know. It would depend on the strength of her spirit, and her moral sense of right and wrong. The Nords last night seemed to be oriented under the 'do onto others as they do onto you' vibe. I just hope most Nords aren't like that. Most of the Altmer here just want to get on with their lives. I hope the Nords will be the same.

I thought about all that had happened the past few days while I walked back to the castle. It wasn't a long walk though. The castle already had a doorway that led to the High District, as I'm sure Fiirnar would have wanted one. The one that led to the Human District had been sealed off. Fiirnar wanted nothing to do with the humans. In fact, that was where the dungeon rested, down in the Human District's part of the castle. There was one gated entrance where new vampire blood would come through and where corpses were cast out into the streets for the Nords to be reminded of their place in society: disposable food supply.

Of course, since Vivian took over, the first thing we did was open up the Human District's gate. Now that the dungeon was clear of feeders, we turned the entire room into a dining/party hall (just to spite Fiirnar). Of course, now we have a new dungeon in what to be Fiirnar's master bedroom. It was in the highest part of the castle, where prisoners would have to either jump to their death to get away, or get past all the guards posted on the levels below. That was where our Nord prisoners rested now.

I stopped to look up at the castle. It was a glorious shining gold and white. No matter what else, I had to admire the craftsmanship the Altmer put into their castles. This one looked very impressive. The castle glowed in the light of the day and during the night, all the streetlights made the High District glow with the same light as the castle. There was a very rich nightlife up here in the High District, simply because whenever the sun set, the place still glowed like it was day. The Human District became darker than night, which was sad. The Undercity was always dark, no matter what time of day it was. The Dark District was the same. Never really had any sun on it. The walls saw to that and the buildings on the other side of the district at least.

I sighed as I walked into the castle. I had learned a lot in a short time, but I wonder just what else I could learn. There was a really old Khajiit living here. If anyone knew about the Nrillia woman, he would have a clue. Especially since he fought the Dominion in the old days. So, he was who I sought out first. I found him in what constituted as our new library. It was filled with the books and diaries of people that Vivian's grandmother had assembled. It was her way of preserving the legacy of the world before the Dominion's time. It was the source of our knowledge now. Our new Spell Weavers were busy reading the journals from the Crimson Blades. They were learning how to use crystals and other more ancient methods to learn how to manipulate energy while the world was in Silence. It was working too. They were able to conjure weak magicka-like energy without the Silence Spell affecting them. Mostly by using Malachite, as some ancient Shadowwraith Nakuma mentioned in her journal.

The old Khajiit, Dro'Indra, was sitting next to Nishera. He was teaching her how to speak Common while also teaching her about the past. I was hoping he could teach me something too. So, I sat down next on the other side of the table and looked at him and Nishera. Nishera looked up at me and smiled before looking down at her book. She grabbed her head in frustration before groaning and slamming her head into the table. "Nishera'fu saiz'vi segr'xiwe." (My head hurts.) She looked up at Dro'Indra. "Prika'vu sima'axiwe?" (Can we have a break?)

Dro'Indra nodded. "Yes, we may." He corrected her in Common. "Go get some lunch." He made sure to speak slowly enough that she would understand what he said. She still looked up at him like he was an idiot and her tail started flicking. He sighed, saying, "Khaw, sima'axiwe. Wuxa nefch'vu tar'fo tu'zashino." Nishera nodded and stood up from the desk. She rubbed her temples as she walked out of the room. Her legs still looked pretty weak but they seemed to be a little stronger than they were yesterday.

I watched her leave before looking back at Dro'Indra. "I ran into the Arrow today."

He looked back at me. "Did you? How did that turn out?"

"Bad. Had to kill him. Told me something before he died though. He said that with Fiirnar gone, 'she' was coming. And in my dream, I heard a name whispered to me from Princess Cecilie: Nrillia." I pulled out Fiirnar's book and placed it on the table. I shoved it towards him, saying, "Fiirnar mentions a Nrillia in his book, but I haven't really gotten a good read out of it yet. Most of it is soaked in blood and is illegible. So, I thought I'd ask you, the oldest living creature that I know…what do you know of Nrillia? Is it possible she is still alive?"

He looked up at me for a second before leaning back in his chair. "Now…that is a name I could never forget. Ever since the Aedra War…I've seen a lot of terrible stuff. I've fought in battles so gruesome that I would lose sleep over it. I lost my favorite children to that witch long ago." He shook his head. He leaned forward, glaring at me. "Bloodstain. I don't want to sugarcoat it for you. Nrillia is the worst thing ever to come from Summerset Isles."

"Worse than Fiirnar?"

He nodded. "Fiirnar was a joke compared to her. Fiirnar was the brains of the Dominion…she was the enforcer. We called her the Necromage. In the course of one battle, we would be fighting some Dominion agents. We'd be winning and they would slowly start to retreat. You'd think that we'd just won a battle. But then…you'd see it. The ground would start to liquefy. Heads would poke through the ground. Bodies would follow the heads. And they would usually look like this Altmer woman wearing black robes. She did it on purpose, to show us her true power. Her ability to be everywhere all at once. She could possess deceased bodies and living ones if she ever made physical contact with one of her replicas. The real problem was… no matter how many you sliced down, no matter how hard you fought, she would send more to replace the ones you destroyed. And they would always get stronger, more aggressive." He shook his head. "I survived because I'm unable to die. My squad wasn't so lucky."

"Is it possible she's still alive?" I readdressed my earlier question to him.

He nodded. "She's a lich. A pure lich. Like Mannimarco."

"Mannimarco." I had heard that name before, and it took me a few seconds before I recalled the journal I had read on the magicka cannon so long ago. Fiirnar had taken his designs of the magicka cannon from Mannimarco's diary. I thought that Mannimarco had just been a genius mage at the time, but if he was a lich, one of the ancient longest lived mages of all time, then it would make sense he'd have time to perfect a device that could destroy large settlements. "If that's true…she knows all the tricks by now." I thought of the Glass Arrow. If she could bring bodies back to life…that would mean… Asger Stonearm, Ulfric Stormcloak. Both of them hunting Shoutmen. She was back, and she was hunting us for killing Fiirnar.

I stood up from the table. "Wow. That's unsettling."

He nodded. "If you think she's coming back, you better figure out how to do the impossible, Bloodstain. No one's been able to kill her. She always comes back."

I looked down at him. He was right. If she was gunning for us, I'd have to find a way to get rid of her; either peacefully or by killing her like I did Fiirnar. But…Fiirnar had been very powerful. It took three of us with full Shouting capabilities just to put him down. Now…there's two Shouters in the castle, three if you counted Deathlake. One was injured in a bed, one was incapable to Shouting anymore, one was a fraud. We were a shell of what we used to be…and now we must fight someone that's even stronger than Fiirnar? How the hell are we supposed to do that?

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><p><strong>Cearbhail:<br>**

_So, next chapter we'll begin the new process of electing a government. Yay for boring stuff that makes the first trilogy of Star Wars to pointless and hated!  
><em>


	8. Library Chats

**Cearbhail:  
><strong>

_Ok, things to say. Umm... I bought Elder Scroll Online. Won't come in until tomorrow. Might get my computer scanned for viruses too. -_- go figure, right? Right as I get the game, I need to have my computer scanned for possibly a week to get it cleaned up. Anyway, about the chapter. Took me three days to write this. My brain is fried and getting me nowhere. I'm so happy a few of my stories are coming up on the conclusions. Like Rogue Shadowscale. Only like... ten or so chapters left. Maybe more, but that's not a lot in the long end of things. This one, I have no idea how long it will end up being. I think it's only getting started, but I cannot be for certain. A lot can happen in the middle of three months... which is how long I have to work on this story... three months of story time, in which two days have already passed. Anyway, enjoy.  
><em>

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><p><em>Bloodstain's Journal, still 26 Morningstar 5e,000<em>

_I believe I understand only one thing at this point: My dream was trying to tell me that Nrillia, a necromancer so old and powerful that the Seer fears her, is now hunting the Shoutmen. A woman so powerful that every journal I read mentions her at least once. And every entry I read that mentions her is frightful. It talks of her abilities, always the same ones too. She shows up in ten or twelve bodies, all as powerful as the actual necromancer. They start fighting the heroes and then either the hero dies or finds a way to get rid of them for a while. If someone like her is coming after us, I don't know what we're going to do. So, I'm going to go further than reading some books. I'm going to do what I should have done. I'm going to read an actual shadow journal, like the one I am writing. I will speak to the ghosts of the past; hopefully someone will tell me her weakness. Until then, I have to meet the Queen. Time to discuss what I've been considering. And I want to talk to Nishera. I have decided that the Khajiits and the Argonians have lived in the darkness for far too long. Time for them to join us in the light._

_Bloodstain…_

_…_

Amazing that the sun was already beginning to set. The day hadn't been too long for me. Sure, woke up from a nightmare and got a letter saying that an old friend is on his way to see me. Then someone shoots an arrow into my arrow, calling me out. I go out, talk to the man, and then kill him. Then I go and investigate the murder sites for any signs of people looting, which they did, and any children left behind, which they weren't. Found a clue to who the 'She' was. Nrillia. Talked to a girl with a missing father, found out she was one of the children of the fathers that murdered a small section of town. She broke down into tears when she found out what he did the previous night… and in her name too. That's sad to hear. After that, I came back home and talked to the oldest Khajiit ever known. I learned more about the Nrillia character, finding out she was this evil incarnate thing that caused so much grief for a long time before disappearing altogether after the Aedra Crisis. So, I read more books from the library about Nrillia. And I didn't like what I read.

And after all that, I came out to the top of the tower where the magicka cannon used to stand. The top of the tower was pretty much my thinking place. The nice cold breeze reminded me that I was still alive, that I still had a chance to fix this world. As long as I live, there will always be a chance for change. The sun was probably 30 minutes from setting, making it about 1700, I think. I'm not sure; I'm not wearing a watch. But still, it was Morningstar so the sun was still setting pretty early. This was the coldest month of the year so it was probably -3 or something. If my armor and jacket weren't enchanted with cold protection, I'd be freezing right now. Or frozen. Gods, I wonder how the races living in the Undercity survived these colder months, especially the Argonians. Not like they have fire or water down there.

Taking a deep breath through my mask, I looked up at the sky. Clouds drifted by, unnaturally purple and pink from the amount of oil still lingering in the skyline. I really screwed up the world, didn't I? Blew up all the factories making new interesting machines, like automobiles. Blew up all the oil we knew of and now it resides in the sky above us, unless it rains and then falls to the ground too watered down to be useful to anyone. And to add onto what else I did … I Silenced the world. Although that's not entirely true. I've gotten rid of all the Thalmor trained mages, but we have our own. Well, they're not mages, but shamans. We found a way to use magicka without having access to the magicka that comes from the world. Crystals, thanks to one well-preserved journal provided by Vivian. I wanted to sit down myself and see if I can learn from it myself. Maybe the writer knew something about Nrillia too.

I shrugged the thought off as I went back down to the staircase. So far, I've tried to stay away from the shadow journals. Not that I hated the idea of talking to the specters of the past, but because I knew that if I talked to one of the heroes of our past, I'd find out they weren't really our heroes after all. If I asked the right questions, I'd find out their fallibility… their human nature to still be what I knew people to be…selfish. There were good people in the world, and I knew that. I was not a good person. What I did that led to this moment have been purely selfish motives. I joined the Shoutmen to avenge my father's death. I fucked with the Thalmor because they fucked with my family. Sure, helping people was good and all, but I did it to get back at the Dominion.

When it came time to build an army to fight the Dominion, I did it because Shoutmen were dying, not because people were suffering and needed saving. That was just a bonus. Just like that boy I left alone in the mines. If I were selfless, I would have jumped down and saved him right then and there. Instead I ran off to find my friend and bring him along to fight with me. If he had said 'no' to my proposal, I would have left the boy there in the mines with the rest of the slaves. I would not have gone back for him until I had an army big enough to fight with me. It's because I don't want to die. And it's been my trend to do stuff to keep myself alive. Everyone does it… it's what makes us mortal. Not that it's wrong, but it's selfish. And if I sit down and read one of these shadow journals… I will find out that my heroes are just as mortal as I am. Even if they're already dead.

I sighed as I climbed down the ladder. Dreaming about the Seer dying has me all thinky today. She was my greatest hero, and I watched as she had her throat ripped out by Fiirnar the Great… an enemy I killed easily once I got him alone on top of a tower without his vampire powers to hold me down. Wass I so much stronger than the person that I looked up to that I shouldn't look up to her anymore? Did I somehow surpass the person I thought of when I needed inspiration? If I was better than her, should I stop looking up to her as an idol? Or did it mean that I should try to better myself even further? Well... and I had help from Vivian and Reachman when I fought Fiirnar. Actually, Vivian was the one that killed him, not me. I just kept him busy until she did her Shouts that killed him. So, I doubt I could have killed Fiirnar on my own, even though I would have fought to the last breath.

After I got back into main hallway, I started walking back to the library. Guards and civilians were walking the hallways, talking about the murders that happened last night and if they expected there to be a riot because of it. I didn't expect there to be one. The Altmer seemed content with how things stood yesterday when I said that the people would be punished accordingly. What I did not know was how the Nords would take the news. Would they be mad and upset at the Altmer or at me for imprisoning their fellows, or would they see the attackers as an insult to the Nord race? I still had to talk to Vivian about my idea for a council made up of the races in our town over the idea of a single Jarl, but I wanted some answers about Nrillia first, or just any answers about the past at all. It was time I talked to my first shade. But which one?

I pondered the idea as I entered the library. Nishera was sitting at one of the tables, bashing her head against a book. I was beginning to think that this was going to be a common trend. She did it several times before groaning and keeping her head in the book. Dro'Indra wasn't here in the library with her. He must have left to get dinner. I wondered why Nishera was here then. There was no way she'd stay here if it made up mad. And I've seen her mildly upset. If she got even the slightest bit upset, she'd shred the book into a thousand bits and toss it over her shoulder while she mumbled under her breath about killing someone. I walked up to her, looking at her little layout on the table. A pen, three pieces of paper, and two books. One written in Ta'agra and the other was one of our textbooks Dro'Indra wrote up for us in Common. He was our history teacher at the moment, and I'm guessing Nishera was learning history. Or language… one of the two.

"Nishera." I called her name.

She jumped straight out of her book, screaming, "Wnaad'xishori'fur!" (I wasn't sleeping!) She looked up at me and her eyes relaxed. She slammed her head back down onto her book with a heavy sigh. "Crauss'wif, khow'figi zawe." (Mr. Claus, it's only you.)

I nodded. "Yeah." As soon as I said it she covered her ears and started growling at me.

"Fu! Ta'agra'figi." (No! Only Ta'agra.) She said as she shook her head in her book. "Huxxif'vu wrezkh'weto'xishori." (I studied too much Common.)

I nodded to her. "Ukikh." (Okay.) I sat down across from her and grabbed one of her books. It was a history book about the Skyrim war with Cyrodiil. I flipped it open and started reading a passage about how the Shoutmen tried to fight the Thalmor Inquisitors. This was one of the few things I actually knew about the past, and only because the previous Shoutmen told us about it after they retired. Stories were recorded and passed down to us. My father told me about the purge that happened in Skyrim, because he was told by his father about it. My grandfather was one of the first Shoutmen: Dragonwing. He lived during the Thalmor invasion. He was the leader of the Shoutmen at the time, so it didn't surprise me that I would still be living his legend 100 years later. I was the leader of the Shoutmen now. Not that I wanted to be. I was just the most experienced of us all, even though I had no ability to Shout.

I put the book down and looked at Nishera. She was looking at her Ta'agra/Common dictionary and grammar book Dro'Indra prepared for her. "Xa sima'xiwe beawrouf." (I have a question.)

She put the book down for a second, looking up at me with hopeful eyes. "Beawr'ti sima'xiwe ki?" (Do we have a quest?)

I partially shrugged. She must be desperate to sneak away from the books for a minute. I don't blame her. If I took her away for a few minutes, she would have an excuse to ditch her studies, and she knew it. "Khajiitin." (The Khajiits) I paused. How did I want to phrase this? It's not like I'm a natural in the language, and the two of us speak entirely different dialects. It's not like she can speak to me in Common either. If I translated this wrong in my head, she might take it the wrong way. "Khue noma'aru fi'noka ed saga'fo?" (Do you like living up here?)

She looked at me like she was confused. Then she groaned and slammed her head on the table. "Crauss'wif'fu ihhafr'vu wuxaroxain efzagwrifz'aru fi'qiz zawe." (Your accent is hard to understand sometimes.) She held her head down in her book for a second before looking up at me. "Vso?" (Why?)

I groaned as I stood up. "Because I want to bring the Khajiits and the Argonians into the town." I replied in Common, which made Nishera cover her ears and shake her head. She started lightly banging her head against the table again. She was like that for a few seconds before I heard a very familiar noise that only Khajiits made. When they cry, they make a noise between a meow and a moan. Her tail flicked madly behind her as she lied there crying her eyes out.

Dro'Indra just happened to walk by at that moment, coming back into the library. "Ok, Nishera. I hope you got your classwork done, because I have some homework for you due tomorrow." He paused as he heard her crying. He then looked up at me, sighing. "Or, maybe just let you relax."

"It's my fault. We're having translation troubles. I understand her accent, she can't figure out mine."

"That's because you learned from uneducated slaves." Dro'Indra stated as he walked into the library. "The Ta'agra you learned was an incomplete fragment with Elvish grammar structure. The only reason you know this method is because Khajiit slaves were not allowed to drink their mother's milk at birth. They grew up without the memories of their ancestors… and therefore… without true Ta'agra. They struggled to maintain their language but grammar changed, some words did too. Nishera cannot understand your grammar because she's only programmed to understand one variant of it. Up until now, you've kept your sentences very light, easy enough for her to follow. But now you're getting more comfortable with speaking and it's catching her off guard. You're the only one she can talk to other than me, and soon enough she won't be able to understand you."

So, that was the real problem. Nishera only had Dro'Indra and me to talk to. There weren't a lot of Khajiits above ground. Dro'Indra was the only one living up here that the vampires enjoyed keeping around. The other Khajiits didn't speak Ta'agra like he did. They spoke Common like the rest of us did. They grew up as feeders. As such, they were more comatose than actually alive. They walked around and just tried to recover, which I couldn't blame them for. They grew up being fed upon. I spent just a few days as one, and it pretty much ruined me. I struggled just to hang onto my sanity. By the time I got to escape, it took a lot of stuff to get me out of my funk.

I sighed as I looked down at the sobbing girl. I rubbed my hand in her mane saying, "Ufa tuuz." (It's ok.) She started quieting down as just lied with her head in the book. I looked over at Dro'Indra. "So, can I ask you something?"

"Is it about Nrillia?" He settled down into a chair.

"Not this time. I am thinking about bringing the Khajiits and the Argonians up from the Undercity."

"Whoa, whoa!" Dro'Indra waved his hands around like he was stopping a train. "What?" He hissed. He shook his head. He looked up at the ceiling, his whiskers twitching. "You just don't take a break, do you?"

I shook my head. "_Equality for all_." I replied.

Dro'Indra started to chuckled, which broke into a bigger laugh. "Bloodstain." He muttered under his breath. He finally looked up at me. "What do you think is going to happen when you do that? Where are they going to live? In the castle?"

I shook my head. "Too many of them. We're running out of room as it is."

He nodded. "Then where? The dungeon underneath the castle? The Human District? Think Nords aren't stressed enough that they can't live up in the High District? Throw some Argonians and Khajiits with them, see how they'll react to having creatures they believe lower class than themselves stuffed in their cramped living quarters. I know my race won't benefit from it either. They smell hatred…and that's why they moved down in the sewers in the first place."

"How about the High District?"

Dro'Indra just sat there with a blank expression. "You're smart. Theorize about that."

I shrugged. "There are some open homes right now. I bet the Khajiits and Argonians could share it amongst themselves."

"All 200 of them in what… four, five homes? Are you _serious_?"

"Dude, there's 89 max. Not even a hundred down there. Space is not available as it is down there, and finding food is also harsh. They struggle to have a society but… you know how it is. They work together."

He sighed. "You're still missing one very important point." I waited for him to say what it was, but he just leaned back and crossed his arms. "No, I will not help you with this. You want to be a leader, so think. What just happened?"

"I decided to help the Khajiits and Argonians."

"Last night… in the High District." He almost growled out.

Last night there was a murder in the High District. Angry Nords killed a bunch of Altmer and Bosmer over territory rights. They believed that the Altmer were now the lower class citizens and that they deserved better homes because of their new status as top dogs. And… if I suddenly put Khajiits and Argonians up in the High District, it would send a very powerful message to the Nords and Bretons living in the Human District. The slaves were now high class citizens…and the humans were now the lowest. There would be more riots…more death… and to make it worse, the Nords we had in prison would be seen as revolutionaries, and that the current government was now out to put humans even further down than they were before. Hell… if I put the beast races with the humans, I was looking at riots. Put them with the elves… more riots. Where could I put them?

I looked at Nishera. She lived in the Dark Corner for maybe a year or so, and she did it without problem. So… that might be the answer. The Dark Corner. The Dunmer already treated Nishera with kindness. I bet if I talked to the Dunmer they'd be more than welcoming to the newcomers to their part of town… rather, circle of the town. And eventually, I could get the town more diverse. As soon as we got a council set up. But first, I had to get the beast races introduced properly to the town. And as I looked at Dro'Indra, I think I knew who their representative would be.

"You know that I'm thinking about starting up a Republic… with race representatives as councilors in our new government."

Dro'Indra nodded like he expected this at some point. "I'm guessing you're offering me as the Representative of the Khajiit Race?"

I nodded. "You speak Common and Ta'agra. You have lived a long life… you have a great respect for history and know how to get stuff done. If anyone could be a great first step for our new government… it would be you."

He nodded. "I had to admit, I was going to suggest a similar tactic, only…" He looked over at Nishera. "I would have put her name on the ballot, not mine. A new face, a new voice."

"Two for each race…one male…one female." I replied.

He smirked. "You really thought this out… didn't you?"

"It's my job." I replied. "And as the Representatives of New Elsweyr, I want you to work on bringing the Khajiits back into our town with full rights. Talk to the Queen about your ideas once she recovers. Until then, you have full right to go out and plan for the integration of the Khajiits. I will announce the shift in the government when I finalize it with the Queen, but I'm sure it's already a done deal."

Of course, I was considering asking Nishera to be one of the voices of the new council. Out of all the Khajiits, she was pretty much the only one that's lived up here on the surface, seeing stuff that showed her the true face of this town. The Nords killing Altmer, the Altmer angry about the killings, the Dunmer taking care of her in the Dark Corner. The only problem with just giving her a title was that she was still just a kid, and that we needed serious voices in the Council, which Dro'Indra was. And if he vouched for her then it would be accepted. And he did just that. He already wanted her included, without my asking. That was a good sign. Things were starting to pick up.

I looked from Nishera back up to Dro'Indra. "Let her get some sleep and then tell her about it tomorrow. I'll talk to the Queen and see about getting two Nord/Breton people to get this ball rolling. And I'll talk to the Altmer/Bosmer about this as well. And once we get that formed, I'm going to take a hit down to the Dark Corner to see about getting some Dunmer to join us. And finally, we'll sit down as a group and we'll discuss the Khajiits and the Argonians living down in the Undercity. That will be the first thing we tackle… as well as the Nord prisoners. They need to be tried for their crimes as well."

Dro'Indra nodded. "It sounds about right. You think that if you can get the races to work together on the issue of reintegrating the beasts into the town that it will get rid of all the problems with find a place in town for them."

I nodded. "That's exactly right. If I did it myself, it would create problems. No matter where I put them, the citizens would be mad. This way, there will not be a problem. The town will decide where to put them. More on the note, where all races should live." I shook my head. "Not sure if I should bother with that issue though. Everyone's been living where they're living for at least two generations. Only the older generation would have remembered living in different conditions, but that doesn't make it right."

I heard a knock on the doorway, which drew my eyes from Dro'Indra. Sofie was standing there, looking at us. "Hey, Bloodstain. The boy from the accident is awake now. Thought you might want to talk to him."

I nodded and stood up. I looked down at Dro'Indra. "I want to talk to one of the Shades of the past about Nrillia. If you could look through the archives of shadow journals and select one that would know a lot about her that would be great."

Dro'Indra nodded. "Sure. I will just have to find it first." He stood up and started walking over to the smaller shadow journal collection. "You go deal with the kid. I'll have this journal ready for you when you come back." He smirked as he shook his head. "In fact, I think I know exactly which one I will give you. She will know more than anyone else on the subject."

I nodded. "Sounds great. Once I get back."

I followed Sofie through the castle over to the medical ward. Of course, the first person I saw was Vivian. She was lying in her bed, looking at a book in her hands. She was reading quietly until Sofie and I walked in. When we did, Vivian placed the book down and smiled at us. "Quick, I need your help." She whispered to me as we walked up at her. "I really want some pudding, but the guards won't let me have any."

Sofie gently hit her on the forehead. "Idiot. That's because we don't have any."

Vivian rubbed the bump on her head for a second before sticking her tongue out at Sofie. "Doesn't mean I can't want it." Then she looked up at me, sticking her arms out for a hug. "Can I get a hug?"

I pulled my mask and coat off before I even let myself get close to her. Both of those things were covered in blood and I didn't want her getting covered in it. Of course, my armor wasn't any cleaner, but it would have taken me a while to get out of the body suit and into my normal rich man clothes, which were nothing more than slave rags I wore while in the feeder pit.

I wrapped Vivian up in a hug and we stayed like that for a while. "How much longer until I can get out of this bed?" Vivian asked Sofie while over my shoulder.

"Just another day to be sure. That wound is pretty well healed but I need to make sure it doesn't reopen." Sofie replied as she walked past our bed.

Sofie walked past me and Vivian, over to the bed with the Bosmer boy. He was lying down, his eyes barely open. He had two bags attached to a line. One was filled with blood, one with water. There were bloody rags all around a waste can near the edge of his bed. The boy looked conscious, but at the same time he looked like a coma patient. He just stared at the ceiling like he wasn't really there.

I finished my hug with Vivian, kissing her. "I need to see to the boy now."

Vivian smiled. "Always playing the good guy." She replied, closing her eyes. "Might as well get some sleep in."

"Don't drift off just yet. I need to talk to you after I'm done with the boy." I squeezed her hand gently as she smiled at me. She finally nodded and lied her head back down.

I stood up from her bed and walked over to the little boy. I made sure that my mask was back on before I walked over to him. My overcoat was on as well. When I walked over to him, his eyes drifted over to my mask. He didn't look scared of me, more impassive about it than anything else. "My name is Bloodstain." I said to him as I walked over to his bed. "I know what happened last night, and I want you to know that the people have will be put to justice soon."

He didn't reply. Tears started flowing down his cheeks now, and he started breathing heavily. He broke into a loud cry and curled up into a ball, screaming for his family. I only nodded my head and looked at Sofie. "This won't change for a couple of days. Make sure he's fed, don't let him leave. He's under our care until we know what to do with him."

She smiled. "We could just adopt him. I mean…it's not like he has any other family."

"We don't know that yet. Let's keep him until he's mentally ready to talk." I sat down on the bed for a second and placed my hand on the kid's back. "I know the things you saw scared you. I know you've experienced stuff no child should ever see, feel, or live through. What happens next is up to you. We'll take good care of you if you let us. When you're ready to talk, just call for Bloodstain or Sofie. Until then, just rest and eat." I stood up from the boy's bed and walked back over to Vivian. Honestly, I didn't expect much conversation from the boy. He just woke up from being nearly murdered by a bunch of random humans. He probably thought I was going to kill him too. It would take some time, but he would eventually return to a state relative to normal. Having a friend would do that too.

It reminded me of when I was around his age. I saw my father's body splattered on the wall of our house. I remember how I felt…how much I hated the Thalmor for what they did. This boy had just witnessed a mass of people kill more than just his father, and lived through a vicious murder attempt on his own life. Things would not get easier for him. He'd probably grow up to be just as hatful of Nords as I did for Altmer. I would not be surprised if he stormed out of this castle before his injuries were properly treated. Probably would storm down to the Human District and kill someone too. I hope not.

I walked back over to Vivian and sat down in the chair next to it. "I should probably tell you everything I've learned."

She opened her eyes and looked over at me. "Oh?" She narrowed her eyes. "Big bag Bloodstain found out who tried to kill me?"

I shook my head. "Unless it was the Glass Arrow, then no. But it does seem to fit with what I've seen the past day. Either way, what happened to you opened up to a lot of stuff in the past two days."

"Oh?" She tried to sit up, but I pushed her back down. I wanted her back on her feet, and opening the wound on her back would not be a good start.

I nodded to her. "Yeah. The note claimed it wanted an Elven Jarl. And I talked around. No one but Nords and Bretons want a Nordic Jarl."

"Well duh!" Vivian rolled her eyes.

I nodded. "I know, big shocker. Well, talking to a smart Dunmer led me to the conclusion that we shouldn't have a Jarl…"

She narrowed her eyes, no longer trying to sit up. "But… it was your suggestion in the first place."

I nodded again. "I know, which is what makes this so hard for me to say. I was wrong. But I've come up with something better. Something that creates true equality."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she tried to sit up as well. "Oh, I cannot wait to hear this." She sounded so amused that she almost broke into a laugh. I took a deep breath, but Vivian beat me to it. "Let me guess: a unique group of representatives that have maybe two or three of each race in a controlled setting acting as the county's ruling body." I paused as I looked at her. She only rolled her eyes and plopped her head back down. "You take so long to find stuff out, you know?" She looked at me and smiled. "I can just picture the bewildered eyes behind your shifting mask." She started to chuckle but stopped when she groaned. "Ow…that still kinda hurts." She looked at me. "Oh come on, Bloodstain. I'm not an idiot. Once that arrow hit me, I had to think how things might end up. You forget that I had a lot of books to read. Sometimes, I had to be creative and write my own. And I would think to myself… how could we have prevented all this crap from happening? Elves taking over the world? They wouldn't have if everyone worked together."

I nodded. "I thought you'd be onboard with the suggestion."

She nodded. "I don't mind one bit." She closed her eyes. "So, what else have you learned?"

"Nrillia is alive and coming after the Shoutmen… as well as you."

Vivian's eyes shot open and she started struggling to sit up. Several nearby guards and patients rushed to hold her down while she thrashed and twisted in her bed. "No! Not her!" She screamed. She reached out, grabbed my coat, and pulled me straight to her face. "Bloodstain. You can't let her get in this town! If she's after us… we need to run. No… she'll find us if we run. She'll find us if we stay! Shit, fuck, SHAB!" She started hyperventilating and Sofie ran over to us. She placed her palm on Vivian's head. Next thing I knew, Vivian was becoming calmer and her voice started trailing off. Her eyes slowly closed and her screaming fits grew silent. Her flailing arms and legs stopped flailing. Vivian had just been put to sleep by one of Sofie's spells.

Sofie looked up at me with concern. "Wow… Vivian knows about this Nrillia character."

I nodded. I had no idea Vivian knew about her, but it would make sense. She grew up reading these books. She knew better than anyone what Nrillia was capable of. I shook my head. That was it! I'm sick of not knowing what this woman was about. Time I learned for myself what this Nrillia could do. I had to go read a journal.

* * *

><p><strong>Cearbhail:<br>**

_Wow, Vivian knows about Nrillia. Who would have guessed that a girl loaded with shadow journals about my previous main characters... characters that fought Nrillia on countless occasions... would know anything about such an evil and dangerous foe? Anyway, next chapter... I have no idea what to do. Ready for suggestions, but will probably ignore them or incorporate it into my storyline.  
><em>


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